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/w"  A*MT^r/-a2Si 

The  canoe  sped  out  into  the  gloom     Page  91 


THE 
GOLD  HUNTERS 


BY 

JAMES  OLIVER  CURWOOD 


McKINLAY,  STONE  &  MACKENZIE 

NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT  1909 
COSMOPOLITAN  BOOK  CORPORATION 


Sold  Huntm 


To  the  sweet-voiced,  dark-eyed  little 
half-Cree  maiden  at  Lac-Bain,  who 
is  the  Minnetaki  of  this  story ;  and  to 
"Teddy"  Brown,  guide  and  trapper, 
and  loyal  comrade  of  the  author  in 
many  of  his  adventures,  this  book  is 
affectionately  dedicated. 


657353 


THE  GOLD  HUNTERS 


THE  GOLD  HUNTERS 

CHAPTER  I 

THE  PURSUIT  OF  THE  HUDSON  BAY  MAIL 

THE  deep  hush  of  noon  hovered  over  the 
vast  solitude  of  Canadian  forest.  The 
moose  and  caribou  had  fed  since  early 
dawn,  and  were  resting  quietly  in  the  warmth 
of  the  February  sun ;  the  lynx  was  curled  away 
in  his  niche  between  the  great  rocks,  waiting 
for  the  sun  to  sink  farther  into  the  north  and 
west  before  resuming  his  marauding  adven 
tures  ;  the  fox  was  taking  his  midday  slumber 
and  the  restless  moose-birds  were  fluffing  them 
selves  lazily  in  the  warm  glow  that  was  begin 
ning  to  melt  the  snows  of  late  winter. 

It  was  that  hour  when  the  old  hunter  on  the 
trail  takes  off  his  pack,  silently  gathers  wood 


2  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

for  a  fire,  eats  his  dinner  and  smokes  his  pipe, 
eyes  and  ears  alert; — that  hour  when,  if  you 
speak  above  a  whisper,  he  will  say  to  you, 

"Sh-h-h-h!  Be  quiet!  You  can't  tell  how. 
near  we  are  to  game.  Everything  has  had  its 
morning  feed  and  is  lying  low.  The  game 
won't  be  moving  again  for  an  hour  or  two,  and 
there  may  be  moose  or  caribou  a  gunshot 
ahead.  We  couldn't  hear  them — now!" 

And  yet,  after  a  time  one  thing  detached 
itself  from  this  lifeless  solitude.  At  first  it 
was  nothing  more  than  a  spot  on  the  sunny 
side  of  a  snow-covered  ridge.  Then  it  moved, 
stretched  itself  like  a  dog,  with  its  forefeet  ex 
tended  far  to  the  front  and  its  shoulders 
hunched  low — and  was  a  wolf. 

A  wolf  is  a  heavy  sleeper  after  a  feast.  A 
hunter  would  have  said  that  this  wolf  had 
gorged  itself  the  night  before.  Still,  some 
thing  had  alarmed  it.  Faintly  there  came  to 
this  wilderness  outlaw  that  most  thrilling  of 
all  things  to  the  denizens  of  the  forest — the 
scent  of  man.  He  came  down  the  ridge  with 
-the  slow  indifference  of  a  full-f-ed  animal,  and 


THE   PURSUIT  3 

with  only  a  half  of  his  old  cunning;  trotted 
across  the  softening  snow  of  an  opening  and 
stopped  where  the  man-scent  was  so  strong 
that  he  lifted  his  head  straight  up  to  the  sky 
and  sent  out  to  his  comrades  in  forest  and 
plain  the  warning  signal  that  he  had  struck  a 
human  trail.  A  wolf  will  do  this,  and  no 
more,  in  broad  day.  At  night  he  might  fol 
low,  and  others  would  join  him  in  the  chase; 
but  with  daylight  about  him  he  gives  the 
warning  and  after  a  little  slinks  away  from  the 
trail. 

But  something  held  this  wolf.  There  was  a 
mystery  in  the  air  which  puzzled  him. 
Straight  ahead  there  ran  the  broad,  smooth 
trail  of  a  sled  and  the  footprints  of  many  dogs. 
Sometime  within  the  last  hour  the  "dog  mail" 
from  Wabinosh  House  had  passed  that  way 
on  its  long  trip  to  civilization.  But  it  was  not 
the  swift  passage  of  man  and  dog  that  held 
the  wolf  rigidly  alert,  ready  for  flight — and 
yet  hesitating.  It  was  something  from  the  op 
posite  direction,  from  the  North,  out  of  which 
the  wind  was  coming.  First  it  was  sound; 


4  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

then  it  was  scent — then  both,  and  the  wolf 
sped  in  swift  flight  up  the  sunlit  ridge. 

In  the  direction  from  which  the  alarm  came 
there  stretched  a  small  lake,  and  on  its  far- 
.iher  edge,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  there  sud 
denly  darted  out  from  the  dense  rim  of  balsam 
forest  a  jumble  of  dogs  and  sledge  and  man. 
For  a  few  moments  the  mass  of  animals 
oee.med  entangled  in  some  kind  of  wreck  or 
engaged  in  one  of  those  fierce  battles  in  which 
the  half-wild  sledge-dogs  of  the  North  fre 
quently  engage,  even  on  the  trail.  Then  there 
came  the  sharp,  commanding  cries  of  a  hu 
man  voice,  the  cracking  of  a  whip,  the  yelping 
of  the  huskies,  and  the  disordered  team 
straightened  itself  and  came  like  a  yellowish- 
gray  streak  across  the  smooth  surface  of  the 
lake.  Close  beside  the  sledge  ran  the  man.  He 
was  tall,  and  thin,  and  even  at  that  distance 
one  would  have  recognized  him  as  an  Indian. 
Hardly  had  the  team  and  its  wild-looking 
driver  progressed  a  quarter  of  the  distance 
across  the  lake  when  there  came  a  shout  far 
ther  back,  and  a  second  sledge  burst  into  view 


THE   PURSUIT  5 

from  out  of  the  thick  forest.  Beside  this 
sledge,  too,  a  driver  was  running  with  des 
perate  speed. 

The  leader  now  leaped  upon  his  sledge,  his 
fvoice  rising  in  sharp  cries  of  exhortation,  his 
whip  whirling  and  cracking  over  the  backs  of 
his  dogs.  The  second  driver  still  ran,  and  thus 
gained  upon  the  team  ahead,  so  that  when  they 
came  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  lake,  where 
the  wolf  had  sent  out  the  warning  cry  to  his 
people,  the  twelve  dogs  of  the  two  teams  were 
almost  abreast. 

Quickly  there  came  a  slackening  in  the  pace 
set  by  the  leading  dog  of  each  team,  and  half 
a  minute  later  the  sledges  stopped.  The  dogs 
flung  themselves  down  in  their  harness,  pant 
ing,  with  gaping  jaws,  the  snow  reddening 
under  their  bleeding  feet.  The  men,  too, 
showed  signs  of  terrible  strain.  The  elder  of 
•these,  as  we  have  said,  was  an  Indian,  pure 
breed  of  the  great  Northern  wilderness.  His 
companion  was  a  youth  who  had  not  yet 
reached  his  twenties,  slender,  but  with  the 
strength  and  agility  of  an  animal  in  his  limbs, 


6  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

his  handsome  face  bronzed  by  the  free  life  of 
the  forest,  and  in  his  veins  a  plentiful  strain 
of  that  blood  which  made  his  comrade  kin. 

In  those  two  we  have  again  met  our  old 
friends  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon:  Mukoki,  the 
faithful  old  warrior  and  pathfinder,  and* 
Wabigoon,  the  adventurous  half-Indian  son 
of  the  factor  of  Wabinosh  House.  Both  were 
at  the  height  of  some  great  excitement.  For  a 
few  moments,  while  gaining  breath,  they 
gazed  silently  into  each  other's  face. 

"I'm  afraid — we  can't — catch  them,  Muky," 
panted  the  younger.  "What  do  you  think — " 

He  stopped,  for  Mukoki  had  thrown  him 
self  on  his  knees  in  the  snow  a  dozen  feet  in 
front  of  the  teams.  From  that  point  there  ran 
straight  ahead  of  them  the  trail  of  the  dog 
mail.  For  perhaps  a  full  minute  he  examined 
the  imprints  of  the  dogs'  feet  and  the  smooth 
path  made  by  the  sledge.  Then  he  looked  up, 
and  with  one  of  those  inimitable  chuckles' 
which  meant  so  much  when  coming  from  him, 
he  said: 

"We  catch  heem — sure!  See — sledge  heem 


THE   PURSUIT  7 

go  deep.  Both  ride.  Big  load  for  dogs.  We 
catch  heem — sure!" 

"But  our  dogs!"  persisted  Wabigoon>  his 
face  still  filled  with  doubt.  "They're  com 
pletely  bushed,  and  my  leader  has  gone  larjc. 
See  how  they're  bleeding!" 

The  huskies,  as  the  big  wolfish  sledge- 
dogs  of  the  far  North  are  called,  were  indeed 
in  a  pitiable  condition.  The  warm  sun  had 
weakened  the  hard  crust  of  the  snow  until  at 
every  leap  the  feet  of  the  animals  had  broken 
through,  tearing  and  wounding  themselves  on 
its  ragged,  knife-like  edges.  Mukold's  face 
became  more  serious  as  he  carefully  examined 
the  teams. 

"Bad— ver'  bad,"  he  grunted.  "We  fool- 
fool!" 

"For  not  bringing  dog  shoes?"  said  Wabi- 
goon.  "I've  got  a  dozen  shoes  on  my  sledge — 
enough  for  three  dogs.  By  George — "  He 
leaped  quickly  to  his  toboggan,  caught  up  the 
dog  moccasins,  and  turned  again  to  fche  old  In 
dian,  alive  with  new  excitement.  "We've  got 
just  one  chance,  Muky!"  he  half  shouted. 


8  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

"Pick  out  the  strongest  dogs.  One  of  us  must 
go  on  alone !" 

The  sharp  commands  of  the  two  adventur 
ers  and  the  cracking  of  Mukoki's  whip 
brought  the  tired  and  bleeding  animals  to 
their  feet.  Over  the  pads  of  three  of  the  larg 
est  and  strongest  were  drawn  the  buckskin 
moccasins,  and  to  these  three,  hitched  to 
Wabigoon's  sledge,  were  added  six  others  that 
appeared  to  have  a  little  endurance  still  left 
in  them.  A  few  moments  later  the  long  line 
of  dogs  was  speeding  swiftly  over  the  trail  of 
the  Hudson  Bay  mail,  and  beside  the  sled  ran 
Wabigoon. 

Thus  this  thrilling  pursuit  of  the  dog  mail 
had  continued  since  early  dawn.  For  never 
more  than  a  minute  or  two  at  a  time  had  there 
been  a  rest.  Over  mountain  and  lake,  through 
dense  forest  and  across  barren  plain  man  and 
dog  had  sped  without  food  or  drink,  snatch 
ing  up  mouthfuls  of  snow  here  and  there — 
always  their  eyes  upon  the  fresh  trail  of  the 
flying  mail.  Even  the  fierce  huskies  seemed 
to  understand  that  the  chase  had  become  a 


THE   PURSUIT  9 

matter  of  life  and  death,  and  that  they  were  to 
follow  the  trail  ahead  of  them,  ceaselessly  and 
without  deviation,  until  the  end  of  their  mas 
ters  was  accomplished.  The  human  scent  was 
becoming  stronger  and  stronger  in  their  wolf* 
like  nostrils.  Somewhere  on  that  trail  there 
were  men,  and  other  dogs,  and  they  were  to 
overtake  them! 

Even  now,  bleeding  and  stumbling  as  they 
ran,  the  blood  of  battle,  the  excitement  of  the 
chase,  was  hot  within  them.  Half-wolf,  half- 
dog,  their  white  fangs  snarling  as  stronger 
whirls  of  the  man-smell  came  to  them,  they 
Were  filled  with  the  savage  desperation  of  the 
youth  who  urged  them  on.  The  keen  instinct 
of  the  wild  pointed  out  their  road  to  them,  and 
they  needed  no  guiding  hand.  Faithful  until 
the  last  they  dragged  on  their  burden,  their 
tongues  lolling  farther  from  their  jaws,  their 
hearts  growing  weaker,  their  eyes  bloodshot 
until  they  glowed  like  red  balls.  Now  andi 
<hen,  when  he  had  run  until  his  endurance  was 
gone.  Wabigoon  would  fling  himself  upon  the 
sledge  to  regain  breath  and  rest  his  limbs,  and 


io  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

the  dogs  would  tug  harder,  scarce  slackening 
their  speed  under  the  increased  weight.  Once 
a  huge  moose  crashed  through  the  forest  a 
hundred  paces  away,  but  the  huskies  paid  no 
attention  to  it;  a  little  farther  on  a  lynx, 
aroused  from  his  sun  bath  on  a  rock,  rolled 
like  a  great  gray  ball  across  the  trail, — the, 
dogs  cringed  but  for  an  instant  at  the  sight 
of  this  mortal  enemy  of  theirs,  and  then  went 
on. 

Slower  and  slower  grew  the  pace.  The 
rearmost  dog  was  now  no  more  than  a  drag, 
and  reaching  a  keen-edged  knife  far  out  over 
the  end  of  the  sledge  Wabi  severed  his  breast 
strap  and  the  exhausted  animal  rolled  out  free 
beside  the  trail.  Two  others  of  the  team  were 
pulling  scarce  a  pound,  another  was  running 
lame,  and  the  trail  behind  was  spotted  with 
pads  of  blood.  Each  minute  added  to  the  de 
spair  that  was  growing  in  the  youth's  face. 
His  eyes,  like  those  of  his  faithful  dogs,  were 
red  from  the  terrible  strain  of  the  race,  his 
lips  were  parted,  his  legs,  as  tireless  as  those 
of  a  red  deer,  were  weakening  under  him. 


THE   PURSUIT  II 

More  and  more  frequently  he  flung  himself 
upon  the  sledge,  panting  for  breath,  and 
shorter  and  shorter  became  his  intervals  of 
running  between  these  periods  of  rest.  The 
end  of  the  chase  was  almost  at  hand.  They 
could  not  overtake  the  Hudson  Bay  mail! 

With  a  final  cry  of  encouragement  Wab: 
sprang  from  the  sledge  and  plunged  along  aC 
the  head  of  the  dogs,  urging  them  on  in  one 
last  supreme  effort.  Ahead  of  them  was  a 
break  in  the  forest  trail  and  beyond  that,  mile 
upon  mile,  stretched  the  vast  white  surface  ot 
Lake  Nipigon.  And  far  out  in  the  glare  of 
sun  and  snow  there  moved  an  object,  some 
thing  that  was  no  more  than  a  thin  black 
streak  to  Wabi's  blinded  eyes  but  which  he 
knew  was  the  dog  mail  on  its  way  to  civiliza 
tion.  He  tried  to  shout,  but  the  sound  that  fell 
from  his  lips  could  not  have  been  heard  a  hun 
dred  paces  away;  his  limbs  tottered  beneath 
him;  his  feet  seemed  suddenly  to  turn  into 
lead,  and  he  sank  helpless  into  the  snow.  The 
faithful  pack  crowded  about  him  licking  hi* 
face  and  hands,  their  hot  breath  escaping  be 


12  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

tween  their  gaping  jaws  like  hissing  steam. 
For  a  few  moments  it  seemed  to  the  Indian 
youth  that  day  had  suddenly  turned  into  night. 
His  eyes  closed,  the  panting  of  the  dogs  came 
to  him  more  and  more  faintly,  as  if  they  were 
moving  away;  he  felt  himself  sinking,  sinking 
slowly  down  into  utter  blackness. 

Desperately  he  fought  to  bring  himself  back 
into  life.  There  was  one  more  chance — just 
one!  He  heard  the  dogs  again,  he  felt  their 
tongues  upon  his  hands  and  face,  and  he 
dragged  himself  to  his  knees,  groping  out  with 
his  hands  like  one  who  had  gone  blind.  A  few 
feet  away  was  the  sledge,  and  out  there,  far 
beyond  his  vision  now,  was  the  Hudson  Bay 
mail! 

Foot  by  foot  he  'drew  himself  out  from 
among  the  tangle  of  dogs.  He  reached  the 
sledge,  and  his  fingers  gripped  convulsively 
at  the  cold  steel  of  his  rifle.  One  more  chance! 
One  more  chance!  The  words — the  thought — 
filled  his  brain,  and  he  raised  the  rifle  to  his 
shoulder,  pointing  its  muzzle  up  to  the  sky 
so  that  he  would  not  harm  the  dogs.  And  then, 


THE   PURSUIT  13 

once,  twice,  five  times  he  fired  into  the  air, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  fifth  shot  he  drew  fresh 
cartridges  from  his  belt,  and  fired  again  and 
again,  until  the  black  streak  far  out  in  the  wil 
derness  of  ice  and  snow  stopped  in  its  progress 
— and  turned  back.  And  still  the  sharp  sig 
nals  rang  out  again  and  again,  until  the  barrel 
of  Wabi's  rifle  grew  hot,  and  his  cartridge  belt 
was  empty. 

Slowly  the  gloom  cleared  away  before  his 
eyes.  He  heard  a  shout,  and  staggered  to  his 
feet,  stretching  out  his  arms  and  calling  a 
name  as  the  dog  mail  stopped  half  a  hundred 
yards  from  his  own  team. 

With  something  between  a  yell  of  joy  and  a 
cry  of  astonishment  a  youth  of  about  Wabi's 
age  sprang  from  the  second  sleigh  and  ran  to 
the  Indian  boy,  catching  him  in  his  arms  as 
for  a  second  time,  he  sank  fainting  upon  the 
snow. 

"Wabi — what's  the  matter?"  he  cried.  "Are 
you  hurt?  Are  you — " 

For  a  moment  Wabigoon  struggled  to  over 
come  his  weakness. 


14  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

"Rod — "  he  whispered,  "Rod — Minne 
taki— " 

His  lips  ceased  to  move  and  he  sank  heavily 
-in  his  companion's  arms. 

"What  is  it,  Wabi?  Quick!  Speak!"  urged 
the  other.  His  face  had  grown  strangely 
white,  his  voice  trembled.  "What  about — • 
Minnetaki?" 

Again  the  Indian  youth  fought  to  bring 
himself  back  to  life.  His  words  came  faintly, 

"Minnetaki — has  been  captured — by — the 
— Woongas I" 

Then  even  his  breath  seemed  to  stop,  and  he 
lay  like  one  dead. 


CHAPTER  II 


FOR  a  brief  time  Roderick  believed  that 
life  had  indeed  passed  from  the  body 
of  his  young  friend.  So  still  did  Wabi 
lie  and  so  terrifying  was  the  strange  pallor  in 
his  face  that  the  white  boy  found  himself  call 
ing  on  his  comrade  in  a  voice  rilled  with  chok 
ing  sobs.  The  driver  of  the  dog  mail  dropped 
on  his  knees  beside  the  two  young  hunters. 
Running  his  hand  under  Wabi's  thick  shirt  he 
held  it  there  for  an  instant,  and  said, 
"He's  alive!" 

Quickly  drawing  a  small  metal  flask  from 
one  of  his  pockets  he  unscrewed  the  top,  and 
placing  the  mouthpiece  to  the  Indian  youth's 
lips  forced  a  bit  of  its  contents  down  his 
throat  The  Hquor  had  almost  immediate  ef 
fect,  and  Wabigoon  opened  his  eyes,  gazed 

15 


i6  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

into  the  rough  visage  of  the  courier,  then 
closed  them  again.  There  was  relief  in  the 
courier's  face  as  he  pointed  to  the  dogs  from 
Wabinosh  House.  The  exhausted  animals 
were  lying  stretched  upon  the  snow,  their 
heads  drooping  between  their  forefeet.  Even 
the  presence  of  a  rival  team  failed  to  arouse 
them  from  their  lethargy.  One  might  have 
thought  that  death  had  overtaken  them  upon 
the  trail  were  it  not  for  their  panting  sides  and 
lolling  tongues. 

"He's  not  hurt!"  exclaimed  the  driver,  "see 
the  dogs!  He's  been  running — running  until 
he  dropped  in  his  tracks !" 

The  assurance  brought  but  little  comfort  to 
Rod.  He  could  feel  the  tremble  of  returning 
life  in  Wabi's  body  now,  but  the  sight  of  the 
exhausted  and  bleeding  dogs  and  the  memory 
of  his  comrade's  last  words  had  filled  him  with 
a  new  and  terrible  fear.  What  Iwi  happened 
to  Minnetaki?  Why  had  the  facto t's  Son  come 
all  this  distance  for  him?  Why  had  he  pur 
sued  the  mail  until  his  dogs  were  nearly  dead, 
and  he  himself  had  fallen  unconscious  in  his 


MINNETAKI  WITH  THE  OUTLAWS    17 

tracks?  Was  Minnetaki  dead?  Had  the 
Woongas  killed  Wabi's  beautiful  little  sister? 

Again  and  again  he  implored  his  friend  to 
speak  to  him,  until  the  courier  pushed  him 
back  and  carried  Wabi  to  the  mail  sled. 

"Hustle  up  there  to  that  bunch  of  spruce 
and  build  a  fire,"  he  commanded.  "We've  got 
to  get  something  hot  into  him,  and  rub  him 
down,  and  roll  him  in  furs.  This  is  bad 
enough,  bad  enough!" 

Rod  waited  to  hear  no  more,  but  ran  to  the 
clump  of  spruce  to  which  the  courier  had  di 
rected  him.  Among  them  he  found  a  number 
of  birch  trees,  and  stripping  off  an  armful  of 
bark  he  had  a  fire  blazing  upon  the  snow  by 
the  time  the  dog  mail  drew  up  with  its  uncon 
scious  burden.  While  the  driver  was  loosen 
ing  Wabi's  clothes  and  bundling  him  in  heavy 
bearskins  Rod  added  dry  limbs  to  the  fire  un 
til  it  threw  a  warm  glow  for  a  dozen  paces 
around.  Within  a  few  minutes  a  pot  of  ice  and 
snow  was  melting  over  the  flames  and  the 
courier  was  opening  a  can  of  condensed  soup. 

The  deathly  pallor  had  gone  from  Wabi's 


18  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

face,  and  Rod,  kneeling  close  beside  him,  was 
rejoiced  to  see  the  breath  coming  more  and 
more  regularly  from  between  his  lips.  But 
even  as  he  rejoiced  the  other  fear  grew  heavier 
at  his  heart.  What  had  happened  to  Minne- 
taki?  He  found  himself  repeating  the  ques 
tion  again  and  again  as  he  watched  Wabi 
slowly  returning  to  life,  and,  so  quickly  that 
it  had  passed  in  a  minute  or  two,  there 
flashed  through  his  mind  a  vision  of  all  that 
had  happened  the  last  few  months.  For  a  few 
(moments,  as  his  mind  traveled  back,  he  was 
igain  in  Detroit  with  his  widowed  mother;  he 
thought  of  the  day  he  had  first  met  Wabigoon, 
the  son  of  an  English  factor  and  a  beautiful 
Indian  princess,  who  had  come  far  down  into 
civilization  to  be  educated;  of  the  friendship 
that  had  followed,  cf  their  weeks  and  months 
together  in  school,  and  then  of  those  joyous 
days  and  nights  in  which  they  had  planned  a 
winter  of  thrilling  adventure  at  Wabi's  home 
in  the  far  North. 

And  what  adventures  there  had  been,  when, 
as  tK  Wolf  Hunters,  he  and  Wabi  and  Mu- 


MINNETAKI  WITH  THE  OUTLAWS     19 

koki  had  braved  the  perils  of  the  frozen  soli 
tudes!  As  Wabigoon's  breath  came  more  and 
more  regularly  he  thought  of  that  wonderful 
canoe  trip  from  the  last  bit  of  civilization  up 
into  the  wilds ;  of  his  first  sight  of  moose,  the 
first  bear  he  had  killed,  and  of  his  meeting 
with  Minnetaki. 

His  eyes  became  blurred  and  his  heart  grew 
cold  as  he  thought  of  what  might  have  hap 
pened  to  her.  A  vision  of  the  girl  swept  be 
tween  him  and  Wabi's  face,  in  which  the  glow 
of  life  was  growing  warmer  and  warmer,  a 
vision  of  the  little  half-Indian  maiden  as  he 
had  first  seen  her,  when  she  came  out  to  meet 
them  in  her  canoe  from  Wabinosh  House,  the 
sun  shining  on  her  dark  hair,  her  cheeks 
flushed  with  excitement,  her  eyes  and  teeth 
sparkling  in  glad  welcome  to  her  beloved 
brother  and  the  white  youth  of  whom  she  had 
heard  so  much — the  boy  from  civilization — 
Roderick  Drew.  He  remembered  how  his  cap 
had  blown  off  into  the  water,  how  she  had 
rescued  it  for  him.  In  a  flash  all  that  passed 
after  that  came  before  him  like  a  picture;  the 


20  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

days  that  he  and  Minnetaki  had  rambled  to 
gether  in  the  forest,  the  furious  battle  in 
which,  single-handed,  he  had  saved  her  from 
those  fierce  outlaw  Indians  of  the  North,  the 
Woongas;  and  after  that  he  thought  of  the 
weeks  of  thrilling  adventure  they  three — Mu- 
koki,  Wabigoon  and  himself — had  spent  in  the 
wilderness  far  from  the  Hudson  Bay  Post,  of 
their  months  of  trapping,  their  desperate  war 
with  the  Woongas,  the  discovery  of  the  cen 
tury-old  cabin  and  its  ancient  skeletons,  and 
their  finding  of  the  birch-bark  map  between 
the  bones  of  one  of  the  skeleton's  fingers,  on 
which,  dimmed  by  age,  was  drawn  the  trail 
to  a  land  of  gold. 

Instinctively,  as  for  an  instant  this  map 
came  into  his  mental  picture,  he  thrust  a  hand 
into  one  of  his  inside  pockets  to  feel  that  his 
own  copy  of  that  map  was  there,  the  map 
which  was  to  have  brought  him  back  into  this 
wilderness  a  few  weeks  hence,  when  they  three 
would  set  out  on  the  romantic  quest  for  the 
gold  to  which  the  skeletons  in  the  old  cabin 
had  given  them  the  key. 


MINNETAKI  WITH  THE  OUTLAWS    *£ 

The  vision  left  him  as  he  saw  a  convulsive 
shudder  pass  through  Wabigoon.  In  another 
moment  the  Indian  youth  had  opened  his  eyes, 
and  as  he  looked  up  into  Rod's  eager  face  he 
smiled  feebly.  He  tried  to  speak,  but  words 
failed  him,  and  his  eyes  closed  again.  There 
was  a  look  of  terror  in  Roderick's  face  as  he 
turned  to  the  courier,  who  came  to  his  side. 
Less  than  twenty-four  hours  before  he  had 
left  Wabigoon  in  the  full  strength  of  his 
splendid  youth  at  Wabinosh  House,  a  lithe 
young  giant,  hardened  by  their  months  of  ad 
venture,  quivering  with  buoyant  life,  anxious 
for  the  spring  that  they  might  meet  again  to 
take  up  another  trail  into  the  unexplored 
North. 

And  now  what  a  change!  The  glimpse 
he  had  caught  of  Wabi's  bloodshot  eyes, 
the  terrible  thinness  of  the  Indian  youth's 
face,  the  chilling  lifelessness  of  his  hands, 
made  him  shiver  with  dread.  Was  it  possible 
that  a  few  short  hours  could  bring  about  that 
remarkable  transformation?  And  where  was 
Mukoki,  the  faithful  old  warrior  from  whose 


22  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

guardianship  Wabigoon  and  Minnetaki  were 
seldom  allowed  to  escape? 

It  seemed  an  hour  before  Wabi  opened  his 
eyes  again,  and  yet  it  was  only  a  few  minutes. 
This  time  Rod  lifted  him  gently  in  his  arms 
and  the  courier  placed  a  cup  of  the  hot  soup 
to  his  lips.  The  warmth  of  the  liquid  put  new 
life  into  the  famished  Indian  youth.  He  drank 
slowly  of  it  at  first,  then  eagerly,  and  when  he 
had  finished  the  cup  he  made  an  effort  to  sit 
up. 

"I'll  take  another,"  he  said  faintly.  "It's 
mighty  good !" 

He  drank  the  second  cup  with  even  greater 
relish.  Then  he  sat  bolt  upright,  stretched  out 
his  arms,  and  with  his  companion's  assistance 
staggered  to  his  feet.  His  bloodshot  eyes 
burned  with  a  strange  excitement  as  he  looked 
at  Rod. 

"I  was  afraid — I  wouldn't — catch  you!" 

"What  is  it,  Wabi?  What  has  happened? 
You  say — Minnetaki — " 

"Has  been  captured  by  the  Woongas.  Chief 
Woonga  himself  is  her  captor,  and  they  are 


MINNETAKI  WITH  THE  OUTLAWS    23 

taking  her  into  the  North.  Rod,  only  you  cans 
save  her!" 

"Only — I — can — save — her?"  gasped  Rod 
slowly.  "What  do  you  mean?" 

"Listen!"  cried  the  Indian  boy,  clutching 
him  by  the  arm.  "You  remember  that  after 
our  fight  with  the  Woongas  and  our  escape 
from  the  chasm  we  fled  to  the  south,  and  that 
the  next  day,  while  you  were  away  from  camp 
hunting  for  some  animal  that  would  give  us 
fat  for  Mukoki's  wound,  you  discovered  a 
trail.  You  told  us  that  you  followed  the  sledge 
tracks,  and  that  after  a  time  the  party  had  been 
met  by  others  on  snow-shoes,  and  that  among 
the  imprints  in  the  snow  was  one  that  made 
you  think  of  Minnetaki.  When  we  reached 
the  Post  we  learned  that  Minnetaki  and  two 
sledges  had  gone  to  Kenegami  House  and  at 
once  concluded  that  those  snow-shoe  trails 
were  made  by  Kenegami  people  sent  out  to 
meet  her.  But  they  were  not!  They  were  made 
by  Woongas! 

"One  of  the  guides,  who  escaped  with  a  se 
vere  wound,  brought  the  news  to  us  last  night, 


24  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

and  the  doctor  at  the  Post  says  that  his  hurt  is 
fatal  and  that  he  will  not  live  another  day. 
Everything  depends  on  you.  You  and  the 
dying  guide  are  the  only  two  who  know  where 
to  find  the  place  where  the  attack  was  made. 
It  has  been  thawing  for  two  days  and  the  trail 
may  be  obliterated.  But  you  saw  Mi&netakTi 
footprints.  You  saw  the  snow-shoe  trails.  You 
— and  you  alone — know  which  way  they 
went!" 

Wabi  spoke  rapidly,  excitedly,  and  then 
sank  down  on  the  sledge,  weakened  by  his  ex 
ertion. 

"We  have  been  chasing  you  with  two  teams 
sincfi  dawn,"  he  added,  "and  pretty  nearly 
killed  the  dogs.  As  a  last  chance  we  doubled 
up  the  teams  and  I  came  on  alone.  I  left  Mu- 
ko'ki  a  dozen  miles  back  on  the  trail." 

Rod's  blood  had  turned  cold  with  horror  at 
the  knowledge  that  Minnetaki  was  in  the 
clutches  of  Woonga  himself.  The  terrible 
change  in  Wabi  was  no  longer  a  mystery. 
Both  Minnetaki  and  her  brother  had  told  him 
more  than  once  of  the  relentless  feud  waged 


MINNETAKI  WITH  THE  OUTLAWS    25 

against  Wabinosh  House  by  this  bloodthirsty 
savage  and  during  the  last  winter  he  had  come 
into  personal  contact  with  it.  He  had  fought, 
had  seen  people  die,  and  had  almost  fallen  a 
victim  to  Woonga's  vengeance. 

But  it  was  not  of  these  things  that  he 
thought  just  now.  It  was  of  the  reason  for  the 
feud,  and  something  rose  in  his  throat  and 
choked  him  until  he  made  no  effort  to  speak. 
Many  years  before,  George  Newsome,  a  young 
Englishman,  had  come  to  Wabinosh  House, 
and  there  he  had  met  and  fallen  in  love  with 
a  beautiful  Indian  princess,  who  loved  him  in 
tun,  and  became  his  wife.  Woonga,  chief  of 
a  warlike  tribe,  had  been  his  rival,  and  when 
t'he  white  man  won  in  the  battle  for  love  his 
fierce  heart  blazed  with  the  fire  of  hatred  and 
revenge.  From  that  day  the  relentless  strife 
against  the  people  of  Wabinosh  House  began. 
The  followers  of  Woonga  turned  from  trap 
pers  and  hunters  to  murderers  and  outlaws, 
and  became  known  all  over  that  wilderness 
country  as  the  Woongas.  For  years  the  feud 
had  continued.  Like  a  hawk  Woonga  watched 


26  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

his  oppmtiMities,  killing  here,  robbing  there, 
and  always  waiting  a  chance  to  rob  the  factor 
of  his  wife  of  children.  Only  a  few  weeks  be 
fore  Rod  had  sav«d  Minnetaki  in  that  terrible 
struggle  in  the  forest.  And  now,  more  hope 
lessly  than  before,  she  had  fallen  into  the 
clutches  of  her  Demies,  and  alone  with 
Woonga  was  being  carried  into  the  far  North 
country,  into  those  vast  unexplored  regions 
from  which  she  would  probably  never  return! 

Rod  turned  to  Wabi,  his  hands  clenched,  his 
eyes  blazing. 

"I  can  find  the  trail,  Wabi!  I  can  find  the 
trail — and  we'll  follow  it  to  the  North  Pole 
if  we  have  to!  We  beat  the  Woongas  in  the 
chasm — we'll  beat  them  now!  We'll  find  Min 
netaki  if  it  takes  us  until  doomsday!" 

From  far  back  in  the  forest  there  came  the 
faint  pistol-like  cracks  of  a  whip,  the  distant 
hallooing  of  a  voice. 

For  a  few  moments  the  three  stood  iistenin^ 

The  voice  came  again. 

"It's  Mukoki,"  said  Wabigoon,  "Mukoki 
and  the  other  dogs!" 


CHAPTER  III 

ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  WOONGAS 

THE  cries  came  nearer,  interspersed 
with  the  cracking  of  Mukoki's  whip  as 
he  urged  on  the  few  lagging  dogs  that 
Wabi  had  left  with  him  upon  the  trail.  In  an 
other  moment  the  old  warrior  and  his  team 
burst  into  view  and  both  of  the  young  hunters 
hurried  to  meet  him.  A  glance  showed  Rod 
that  a  little  longer  and  Mukoki  would  have 
dropped  in  his  tracks,  as  Wabi  had  done.  The 
two  led  their  faithful  comrade  to  the  heap  of 
bearskins  on  the  mail  sled  and  made  him  sit 
there  while  fresh  soup  was  being  made. 

"You  catch  heem,"  grinned  Mukoki  joy 
ously.  "You  catch  heem — queek!" 

"And  pretty  nearly  killed  himself  doing  it, 
Muky,"  adder*  Rod.  "Now—"  he  glanced 
from  one  tc  the  other  of  his  companions, 
"what  is  the  first  thing  to  be  done?" 

27 


28  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

! We  must  strike  for  the  Woonga  trail  with- 
out  a  moment  of  unnecessary  delay,"  declared 
Wabi.  "Minutes  are  priceless,  an  hour  lost  or 
gained  may  mean  everything!" 

"But  the  dogs—" 

"You  can  take  mine/'  interrupted  the 
courier.  "There  are  six  of  them,  all  good 
heavy  fellows  and  not  overly  bushed.  You  can 
add  a  few  of  your  own  and  I'll  take  what's  left 
to  drive  on  the  mail.  I  would  advise  you  to 
rest  for  an  hour  or  so  and  give  them  and  your 
selves  a  good  feed.  It'll  count  in  the  long  run." 

Mukoki  grunted  his  approval  of  the  driver's 
words  and  Rod  at  once  began  gathering  more 
fuel  for  the  fire.  The  temporary  camp  was 
soon  a  scene  of  the  liveliest  activity.  While  the 
courier  unpacked  his  provisions,  Mukoki  and 
Wabigoon  assembled  the  teams  and  proceeded 
(to  select  three  of  the  best  of  their  own  animals 
to  put  in  harness  with  those  of  the  Hudson  Bay 
mail.  The  dogs  from  Wabinosh  House  were 
wildly  famished  and  at  the  si^-  «t  and  odor  of 
the  great  piece  of  meat  which  the  courier  be 
gan  cutting  up  for  them  they  set  up  a  snarling 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  WOONGAS    29 

and  snapping  of  jaws,  and  began  fighting 
indiscriminately  among  themselves  until  the 
voices  of  their  human  companions  were  almost 
drowned  in  the  tumult.  A  full  pound  of  the 
meat  was  given  to  each  dog,  and  other  pieces 
of  it  were  suspended  over  beds  of  coals  drawn 
out  from  the  big  fire.  Meanwhile  Rod  was 
chopping  through  the  thick  ice  of  the  lake  in 
search  of  water. 

After  a  little  Wabi  came  down  to  join  him. 

"Our  sledge  is  ready,"  he  said,  as  Rod 
stopped  to  rest  for  a  moment  "We're  a  little 
short  on  grub  for  nine  dogs  and  three  people, 
but  we've  got  plenty  of  ammunition.  We 
ought  to  find  something  on  the  trail." 

"Rabbits,  anyway,"  suggested  Rod,  resum 
ing  his  chopping.  A  few  more  strokes,  and 
water  gushed  through.  Filling  two  pails  the 
boys  returned  to  camp. 

The  shadows  from  the  sharp  pointed  cedars 
of  the  forest  were  falling  far  out  upon  the 
frozen  lake  when  the  meal  was  finished,  and 
the  sun,  sinking  early  to  its  rest  beyond  the 
homeless  solitudes,  infused  but  little  warmth 


30  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

as  the  three  hunters  prepared  to  leave.  It  was 
only  three  o'clock,  but  a  penetrating  chill  was 
growing  in  the  air.  Half  an  hour  more  and 
only  a  reddish  glow  would  be  where  the 
northern  sun  still  shone  feebly.  In  the  far 
North  winter  night  falls  with  the  swiftness  of 
wings;  it  enshrouds  one  like  a  palpable,  mov 
ing  thing,  a  curtain  of  gloom  that  can  almost 
be  touched  and  felt,  and  so  it  came  now,  as  the 
dogs  were  hitched  to  their  sledge  and  Rod, 
Mukoki  and  Wabigoon  bade  good-by  to  the 
driver  of  the  Hudson  Bay  mail. 

"You'll  make  the  other  side  in  four  hours," 
he  called,  as  Mukoki's  cries  sent  the  dogs  trot 
ting  out  upon  the  lake.  "And  then — I'd 
camp!" 

Running  on  ahead  Mukoki  set  the  pace  and 
marked  the  trail.  Wabi  took  the  first  turn  on 
the  sledge,  and  Rod,  who  was  fresher  than 
either  of  his  comrades,  followed  close  behind. 
After  a  little  he  drew  up  beside  the  young  In 
dian  and  placed  a  hand  on  his  shoulder  as  he 
ran. 

"We  will  reach  our  old  camp — in  the  plain 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  WOONGAS    31 

— to-morrow?"  he  questioned,  between 
breaths. 

"To-morrow,"  affirmed  Wabi.  "Mukoki 
will  show  us  the  shortest  cut  to  it.  After  that, 
after  we  reach  the  camp,  everything  will  de 
pend  upon  you." 

Rod  fell  behind  in  the  path  made  by  the 
sledge,  and  saved  his  breath.  His  mind  was 
working  as  never  before  in  his  life.  When 
they  reached  the  camp  in  which  the  wounded 
Mukoki  had  lain  after  their  escape  from  the 
Woongas,  could  he  find  the  old  trail  where  he 
had  seen  Minnetaki's  footprints?  He  was 
quite  sure  of  himself,  and  yet  he  was  conscious 
of  an  indefinable  something  growing  in  him  as 
he  noticed  more  and  more  what  the  sun  had 
done  that  day.  Was  it  nervousness,  or  fear? 
Surely  he  could  find  the  trail,  even  though  it 
was  almost  obliterated!  But  he  wished  that  it 
had  been  Mukoki  or  Wabigoon  who  had  dis 
covered  it,  either  of  whom,  with  the  wood 
craft  instinct  born  in  them,  would  have  gone 
to  it  as  easily  as  a  fox  to  the  end  of  a  strong 
trail  hidden  in  autumn  leaves.  If  he  did  fail — 


32  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

He  shuddered,  even  as  he  ran,  as  he  thought 
of  the  fate  that  awaited  Minnetaki.  A  few 
hours  before  he  had  been  one  of  the  happiest 
youths  in  the  world.  Wabi's  lovely  little  sister, 
he  bad  believed,  was  safe  at  Kenegami  House; 
he  had  bade  adieu  to  his  friends  at  the  Post; 
every  minute  after  that  had  taken  him  nearer 
to  that  far  city  in  the  South,  to  his  mother,  and 
home.  And  now  so  suddenly  that  he  had 
hardly  come  to  realize  the  situation  he  was 
plunged  into  what  gave  promise  of  being  the 
most  thrilling  and  tragic  adventure  of  his  life, 
A  few  weeks  more,  when  spring  had  come,  he 
would  have  returned  to  his  friends  accom 
panied  by  his  mother,  and  they  three — Mu- 
koki,  Wabigoon  and  he — would  have  set  out 
on  their  romantic  quest  for  the  lost  gold-mine 
that  had  been  revealed  to  them  by  the  ancient 
skeletons  in  the  old  cabin.  Even  as  these  vi 
sions  were  glowing  in  his  brain  there  had  come 
the  interruption,  the  signal  shots  on  t?:e  lake, 
the  return  of  the  dog  mail,  and  now  this  race 
to  save  the  life  of  Minnetaki! 

In  his  eagerness  he  ran  ahead  of  the  sledge 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  WOONGAS    33 

and  urged  Mukoki  into  a  faster  pace.  Every 
ten  minutes  the  one  who  rode  exchanged  place 
with  one  of  the  runners,  so  that  there  were  in 
tervals  of  rest  for  each  two  times  an  hour. 
Quickly  the  red  glow  over  the  southwestern 
forests  faded  away;  the  gloom  grew  thicker; 
far  ahead,  like  an  endless  sheet  losing  itself  in 
*  distant  smother  of  blackness,  stretched  the 
ice  and  snow  of  Lake  Nipigon.  There  was  no 
tree,  no  rock  for  guidance  over  the  trackless 
waste,  yet  never  for  an  instant  did  Mukoki  or 
Wabigoon  falter.  The  stars  began  burning 
brilliantly  in  the  sky;  far  away  the  red  edge 
of  the  moon  rose  over  this  world  of  ice  and 
snow  and  forest,  throbbing  and  palpitating 
like  a  bursting  ball  of  fire,  as  one  sees  it  now 
and  then  in  the  glory  of  the  great  northern 
night. 

Tirelessly,  mile  after  mile,  hour  after  hour, 
broken  only  by  the  short  intervals  of  rest  on 
the  sledge^  continued  the  race  across  Lake 
Nipigon.  The  moon  rose  higher;  the  blood 
in  it  paled  to  the  crimson  glow  of  the  moose 
flower,  and  silvered  as  it  climbed  into  the  sky, 


34  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

until  the  orb  hung  like  a  great  golden-white 
disk.  In  the  splendor  of  it  the  solitude  of  ice 
and  snow  glistened  without  end.  There  was 
no  sound  but  the  slipping  of  the  sledge,  the 
pattering  of  the  dogs'  moccasined  feet,  and 
now  and  then  a  few  breathless  words  spoken 
by  Rod  or  his  companions.  It  was  a  little  after 
eight  o'clock  by  Rod's  watch  when  there  came 
a  change  in  the  appearance  of  the  lake  ahead 
of  them.  Wabi,  who  was  on  the  sledge,  was  the 
first  to  notice  it,  and  he  shouted  back  his  dis 
covery  to  the  white  youth. 

"The  forest!  We're  across  I" 

The  tired  dogs  seemed  to  leap  into  new  life 
at  his  words,  and  the  leader  replied  with  a 
whining  joyous  cry  as  the  odors  of  balsam  and 
fir  came  to  him.  The  sharp  pinnacles  of  the 
forest,  reaching  up  into  the  night's  white  glow, 
grew  more  and  more  distinct  as  the  sledge  spec1 
on,  and  five  minutes  later  the  team  drew  up  in 
a  huddled,  panting  bunch  on  the  shore.  That 
day  the  men  and  dogs  from  Wabinosh  House 
had  traveled  sixty  miles. 

"We'll  camp  here!"  declared  Wabi,  as  he 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  WOONGAS    35 

dropped  on  the  sledge.  "We'll  camp  here — 
unless  you  leave  me  behind!" 

Mukoki,  tireless  to  the  last,  had  already 
found  an  ax. 

"No  rest  now,"  he  warned,  "Too  tired! 
You  rest  now — build  no  camp.  Build  camp — 
tfien  rest!" 

"You're  right,  Muky,"  cried  Wabi,  jump 
ing  to  his  feet  with  forced  enthusiasm.  "If  I 
slit  down  for  five  minutes  I'll  fall  asleep.  Rod, 
you  build  a  fire.  Muky  and  I  wiil  make  the 
shelter." 

In  less  than  half  an  hour  the  balsam  bough 
shelter  was  complete,  and  in  front  of  it  roared 
a  fire  that  sent  its  light  and  heat  for  twenty 
paces  round.  From  farther  back  in  the  forest 
fhe  three  dragged  several  small  logs,  and  no 
sooner  had  they  been  added  to  the  flames  than 
both  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon  wrapped  them 
selves  in  their  furs  and  burrowed  deep  into  the 
'sweet-scented  balsam  under  the  shelter.  Rod's 
experience  that  day  had  not  been  filled  with 
the  terrible  hardships  of  his  companions,  and 
for  some  time  after  they  had  fallen  asleep  he 


36  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

sat  close  to  the  fire,  thinking  again  of  the 
strangeness  with  which  his  fortunes  had 
changed,  and  watching  the  flickering  firelight 
as  it  played  in  a  thousand  fanciful  figures  in 
the  deeper  and  denser  gloom  of  the  forest! 
The  dogs  had  crept  in  close  to  the  blazing  logs 
and  lay  as  still  as  though  life  no  longer  ani 
mated  their  tawny  bodies.  From  far  away 
there  came  the  lonely  howl  of  a  wolf ;  a  great 
white  man-owl  fluttered  close  to  the  camp  and 
chortled  his  crazy,  half-human  "hello,  hello, 
hello;"  the  trees  cracked  with  the  tightening 
frost,  but  neither  wolf  howl  nor  frost  nor  the 
ghostly  visitant's  insane  voice  aroused  those 
who  were  sleeping. 

An  hour  passed  and  still  Rod  sat  by  the  fire ; 
his  rifle  lying  across  his  knees.  His  imagina 
tion  had  painted  a  thousand  pictures  in  that 
time.  Never  for  an  instant  had  his  mind 
ceased  to  work.  Somewhere  in  that  great  wil 
derness  there  was  another  camp-fire  that  night, 
and  in  that  camp  Minnetaki  was  a  captive. 
Some  indefinable  sensation  seemed  to  creep 
into  him,  telling  him  that  she  was  awake,  and 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  WOONGAS    37 

that  she  was  thinking  of  her  friends.  Was  it  a 
touch  of  sleep,  or  that  wonderful  thing  called 
mental  telepathy,  that  wrought  the  next  pic 
ture  in  his  brain?  It  came  with  startling  vivid 
ness.  He  saw  the  girl  beside  a  fire.  Her  beau 
tiful  hair,  glistening  black  in  the  firelight, 
hung  in  a  heavy  braid  over  her  shoulder;  her 
eyes  were  staring  wildly  into  the  flames,  as  if 
she  were  about  to  leap  into  them,  and  back  of 
her  so  close  that  he  might  have  touched  her, 
was  a  figure  that  sent  a  chill  of  horror  through 
him.  It  was  Woonga,  the  outlaw  chief!  He 
was  talking,  his  red  face  was  fiendish,  he 
stretched  out  a  hand! 

With  a  cry  that  startled  the  dogs  Rod 
sprang  to  his  feet.  He  was  shivering  as  if 
in  a  chill.  Had  he  dreamed?  Or  was  it 
something  more  than  a  dream?  He  thought 
of  the  vision  that  had  come  to  him  weeks 
before  in  the  mysterious  chasm,  the  vision  of 
the  dancing  skeletons,  and  which  had  revealed 
the  secret  of  the  old  cabin  and  the  lost  gold. 
In  vain  he  tried  to  shake  off  his  nervousness 
and  his  fear.  Why  had  Woonga  reached 


38  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

»ut  his  hands  for  Minnetaki?  He  workea  to 
tree  himself  of  the  weight  that  had  fallen  on 
him,  stirred  the  fire  until  clouds  of  sparks  shot 
high  up  into  the  gloom  of  the  trees,  and  added 
aew  fuel. 

Then  he  sat  down  again,  and  for  the  twen 
tieth  time  since  leaving  Wabinosh  House 
drew  from  his  pocket  the  map  that  was  to  have 
led  them  on  their  search  for  gold  when  he  re 
turned  with  his  mother.  It  was  a  vision  that 
had  guided  him  to  the  discovery  of  this  pre 
cious  map,  and  the  knowledge  of  it  made  him 
more  uneasy  now.  A  few  moments  before  he 
had  seen  Minnetaki  as  plainly  as  though  she 
had  been  with  him  there  beside  the  fire;  he 
fancied  that  he  might  almost  have  sent  a  bul 
let  through  the  Indian's  chief  face  as  he 
reached  out  his  long  arms  toward  the  girl. 

He  stirred  the  fire  again,  awakened  one  of 
the  dogs  to  keep  him  company,  and  then  went 
in  to  lie  down  between  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon 
in  an  attempt  at  slumber.  During  the  hours 
that  followed  he  secured  only  short  snatches  of 
sleep.  He  dreamed,  dreamed  constantly  of 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  WOONGAS    39 

Minnetaki  whenever  he  lost  consciousness. 
Now  he  saw  her  before  the  fire,  as  he  had 
seen  her  in  his  vision;  again,  she  was  strug 
gling  in  the  Woonga's  powerful  grasp.  At 
one  time  the  strife  between  the  two — the 
young  girl  and  the  powerful  savage — became 
terrible  for  him  to  behold,  and  at  last  he  saw 
the  Indian  catch  her  in  his  arms  and  di&ap- 
pear  into  the  blackness  of  the  forest. 

This  time  when  he  wakened  Rod  made  no 
further  effort  to  sleep.  It  was  only  a  little 
past  midnight.  His  companions  had  obtained 
four  hours  of  rest.  In  another  hour  he  would 
arouse  them.  Quietly  he  began  making  prep 
arations  for  breakfast,  and  fed  the  dogs.  At 
half-past  one  o'clock  he  shook  Wabigoon  by 
the  shoulder. 

"Get  up !"  he  cried,  as  the  Indian  youth  sat 
erect.  "It's  time  to  go!" 

He  tried  to  suppress  his  nervousness  when 
Mukoki  and  Wabi  joined  him  beside  the  fire. 
He  determined  not  to  let  them  know  of  his 
visions,  for  there  was  gloom  enough  among 
them  as  it  was.  But  he  would  hurry.  He  was 


40  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

the  first  to  get  through  with  breakfast,  the  first 
to  set  to  work  among  the  dogs,  and  when  Mu- 
koki  started  out  at  the  head  of  the  team 
through  the  forest  he  was  close  beside  him, 
urging  him  to  greater  speed  by  his  own  en 
deavors. 

"How  far  are  we  from  the  camp,  Mukoki?"' 
he  asked. 

"Four  hour — twent'  mile,"  replied  the  old 
pathfinder. 

"Twenty  miles.  We  ought  to  make  it  by 
dawn." 

Mukoki  made  no  answer,  but  quickened  his 
pace  as  the  cedar  and  balsam  forest  gave  place 
to  an  open  plain  which  stretched  for  a  mile 
or  two  ahead  of  them.  For  an  hour  longer 
the  moon  continued  to  light  up  the  wilderness ; 
then,  with  its  descent  lower  and  lower  into 
the  west,  the  gloom  began  to  thicken,  until 
only  the  stars  were  left  to  guide  the  pursuers. 
Even  these  were  beginning  to  fade  when  Mu 
koki  halted  the  panting  team  on  the  summit 
of  a  mountainous  ridge,  and  pointed  into  the 
north. 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  WOONGAS    41 

"The  plains!" 

For  several  minutes  the  three  stood  silent, 
gazing  out  into  the  gloom  of  the  vast  soli 
tudes  that  swept  unbroken  to  Hudson  Bay. 
Again  Rod's  blood  was  thrilled  with  the  ro« 
mance  of  what  lay  at  his  feet  and  far  beyond, 
thrilled  with  the  romance  and  mystery  of  that 
land  of  the  wild  which  reached  for  hundreds 
of  miles  into  the  North,  and  into  which  the 
foot  of  the  white  man  had  as  yet  scarce  left  its 
imprint. 

Before  him,  enveloped  now  in  the  deep 
gloom  of  the  northern  night,  slept  a  vast  un 
explored  world,  a  land  whose  story  the 
passing  of  ages  had  left  unrevealed.  What 
tragedies  of  nature  had  its  silent  fastnesses 
beheld?  What  treasure  did  they  hold?  Half 
i  century  or  more  ago  the  men  whose  skele 
tons  they  had  found  in  the  old  cabin  had 
braved  the  perils  of  those  trackless  solitudes,, 
and  somewhere  hundreds  of  miles  out  in  that 
black  gloom  they  had  found  gold,  the  gold 
that  had  fallen  as  an  inheritance  to  them  in 
the  discovery  of  the  old  birch-bark  map. 


42  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

And  somewhere,  somewhere  out  there  was 
Minnetaki! 

Across  the  plain  at  their  feet  the  three  ad 
venturers  had  raced  for  their  lives  from  the 
bloodthirsty  Woongas  only  a  week  or  so  be 
fore  ;  now  they  crossed  it  a  second  time  and  at 
even  greater  speed,  for  then  they  had  pos 
sessed  no  dogs.  At  the  end  of  another  hour 
Mukoki  no  longer  traveled  faster  than  a  walk. 
His  eyes  were  constantly  on  the  alert.  Occa 
sionally  he  would  stop  the  dogs  and  strike  off 
to  the  right  or  the  left  of  the  trail  alone.  He 
spoke  no  word  to  his  companions,  and  neither 
Rod  nor  Wabigoon  offered  a  suggestion. 
They  knew,  without  questioning,  that  they 
were  approaching  their  old  camp,  and  just 
as  the  experienced  hunter  makes  no  sign  or 
sound  while  his  dog  is  nosing  out  a  half-lost 
.trail  so  they  held  back  while  Mukoki,  the 
most  famous  pathfinder  in  all  those  regions, 
led  them  slowly  on.  The  last  of  the  stars  went 
out.  For  a  time  the  blackness  of  the  night 
grew  deeper;  then,  in  the  southeast,  came  the 
first  faint  streak  of  dawn.  Day  is  born  as  sud- 


-  ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  THE  WOONGAS    43 

denly  as  it  dies  in  these  regions,  and  it  was 
soon  light  enough  for  Mukoki  to  resume  his 
trail  at  a  trot.  A  few  minutes  more  and  a 
clump  of  balsam  and  spruce  loomed  up  out 
of  the  plain  ahead  of  them.  Neither  Rod  nof 
Wahigoon  recognized  it  until  the  old  warrior 
halted  the  dogs  close  in  its  shadows  and  they 
saw  i,he  look  of  triumph  in  his  face. 

"The  camp!"  breathed  Wabi. 

"The  camp!" 

Trembling,  his  voice  quivering  with  sup 
pressed  excitement,  the  Indian  youth  turned 
to  Roderick  Drew. 

"Rod— it's  all  up  to  you!" 

Mukoki,  too,  had  come  close  to  his  side. 

"There — camp!"  he  whispered.  "Now — • 
where  Minnetaki's  trail?" 

The  old  warrior's  eyes  were  blazing. 

"Where?" 

A  dozen  paces  away  was  the  balsam  shelter 
they  had  built.  But  that  was  all.  Not  a  track 
was  left  in  the  snow.  The  warm  sun  had  ob 
literated  every  sign  of  their  presence  of  a  short 
time  before! 


44  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

If  their  own  trail  was  gone  what  could  he 
hope  to  find  of  Minnetaki's  dainty  foot 
prints? 

Deep  down  in  his  heart  Rod  prayed  for 
guidance  in  this  moment  of  terrible  doubt 


5  ;     CHAPTER  IV 
ROD  FOLLOWS  THE  MAN-FOOTED  BEAR 

I  MUST  wait  until  it  is  lighter,"  he  said. 
He  tried  to  control  himself,  to  fortify 
himself  with  the  assurance  which  he  no 
longer  felt. 

"We  will  have  breakfast,"  suggested  Wabi. 
!<We  have  cold  meat  and  there  will  be  no  need 
of  a  fire." 

Finishing  before  the  others,  Rod  grasped 
his  rifle  and  walked  out  from  among  the  trees. 
Wabi  made  a  movement  as  if  to  follow,  but 
Mukoki  held  him  back.  There  was  a  shrewd 
light  in  his  eyes. 

"He  do  better — alone,"  he  warned. 

The  red  glow  of  the  sun  was  rising  above 

the  forest  and  Rod  could  now  see  far  about 

him.   He  had  come  out  from  the  cedars,  likt 

this,  on  the  afternoon  that  he  had  gone  to  hunt 

45 


46 

and  had  found  Minnetaki's  trail.  A  milp 
away  he  saw  the  snow-covered  ridge  where  he 
had  hunted  for  moose.  That  ridge  was  hi? 
first  guide,  and  he  hurried  toward  it  while 
Mukoki  and  Wabigoon  followed  far  behind 
him  with  the  dogs  and  the  sledge.  He  was 
breathless  when  he  reached  the  top.  Eagerly 
he  gazed  into  the  North.  It  was  in  that  direc 
tion  he  had  gone  on  the  afternoon  of  his  dis 
covery  of  the  strange  trail.  But  nothing  that 
he  recognized  met  his  eyes  now,  no  familiar 
landmark  or  tree  to  guide  him  again  over  his 
wandering  footsteps  of  that  day.  Vainly  he 
sought  along  the  ridge  for  some  slight  sign 
of  his  former  presence  there.  But  every 
thing  was  gone.  The  sun  had  destroyed  his 
last  hope. 

He  was  glad  that  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon 
were  at  the  foot  of  the  ridge,  for  he  knew  that 
his  despair  almost  brought  tears  to  his  eyes, 
iMinnetaki's  fate  was  in  his  hands — and  he 
had  failed.  He  dreaded  to  tell  his  compan 
ions,  to  let  them  see  his  face.  For  once  in  his 
life,  though  he  was  as  courageous  a  youth  as 


THE    MAN-FOOTED    BEAR  47 

ever  lived,  Roderick  Drew  almost  wished  that 
he  was  dead. 

Suddenly,  as  in  their  hopeless  search  for 
some  familiar  object  Rod's  eyes  traveled 
again  over  the  endless  waste  of  snow,  he  saw, 
far  away,  something  that  glittered  in  the 
morning  sun  like  a  pane  of  glass,  and  from  his 
lips  there  fell  a  low  exultant  cry.  He  remem 
bered  now  that  he  had  seen  that  strange  gleam 
before,  that  he  had  gone  straight  to  it  from  the 
ridge  and  had  found  it  to  be  a  sheet  of  crystal 
ice  frozen  to  the  side  of  a  rock  from  above 
which  the  water  of  a  spring  gushed  forth. 
Without  waiting  for  his  companions  he  hur 
ried  down  the  ridge  and  sped  like  a  deer 
across  the  narrow  plain  at  its  foot.  A  five- 
minute  run  brought  him  to  the  rock,  and  for 
a  moment  he  paused,  his  heart  almost  choking 
him  in  its  excitement.  Just  beyond  this  he 
had  first  encountered  the  strange  trail.  There 
were  no  signs  of  it  left  in  the  snow,  but  he  saw 
other  things  which  led  him  on:  a  huge  rock 
thrusting  itself  out  of  the  chaos  of  white,  a 
dead  poplar  which  stood  in  his  path,  and  at 


4&  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

last,  half  a  mile  ahead,  the  edge  of  a  dense 
forest. 

He  turned  and  waved  his  arms  wildly  to 
Mukoki  and  Wabigoon,  who  were  far  behind. 
Then  he  ran  on,  and  when  he  reached  the  for- 
'est  he  waved  his  arms  again,  and  his  joy  was 
flung  back  in  a  thrilling  shout  to  his  com 
rades.  There  was  the  log  on  which  Minne- 
taki  had  been  forced  to  sit  while  awaiting  the 
pleasure  of  her  savage  captors ;  he  found  the 
very  spot  where  her  footprint  had  been  in 
the  snow,  close  to  a  protruding  stub!  The 
outlaw  Indians  and  their  captives  had  rested 
here  for  a  brief  spell,  and  had  built  a  fire,  and 
so  many  feet  had  beaten  the  snow  about  it  that 
their  traces  still  remained. 

'He  pointed  to  these  signs  as  Mukoki  and 
Wat)igoon  joined  him. 

For  several  minutes  no  one  of  the  three 
spoke  a  word.  Crouched  over  until  his  eyes 
were  within  a  foot  of  the  snow  the  old  path 
finder  examined  every  inch  of  the  little  clear 
ing  in  which  the  Woongas  had  built  their  fire, 


THE    MAN-FOOTED    BEAR  49 

and  when  at  last  he  drew  himself  erect  his  face 
betrayed  the  utmost  astonishment. 

The  boys  saw  that  in  those  faint  marks  in 
the  snow  he  had  discovered  something  of  un 
usual  if  not  startling  significance. 

"What  is  it,  Muky?"  asked  the  young  In 
dian. 

Mukoki  made  no  reply,  but  returning  to 
the  charred  remains  of  the  fire  he  again  fell 
upon  his  hands  and  knees  and  repeated  his 
strange  scrutiny  of  the  snow  even  more  closely 
than  before.  When  he  arose  a  second  time  the 
astonishment  had  grown  deeper  in  his  face. 

"Only  six!"  he  exclaimed.  "Two  guides 
from  Post — four  Woongas!" 

"But  the  wounded  driver  told  us  that  there 
were  at  least  a  dozen  Woongas  in  the  attack 
ing  party:,"  said  Wabi. 

The  old  warrior  chuckled,  and  for  a  mo 
ment  his  face  twisted  itself  into  a  ludicrous 
grimace. 

"Driver  lie!"  he  declared.  "He  run  when 
fight  begin.  Shot  in  back  while  heem  run!" 


SO  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

He  pointed  into  the  cold  depths  of  the 
forest. 

"No  sun  there!    Follow  trail  easy!" 

There  was  no  uneasiness  in  Mukoki's  man 
ner  now.  His  eyes  gleamed,  but  it  was  with 
the  fire  of  battle  and  resolution,  not  with  ex 
citement.  Once  before  Rod  had  seen  that  look 
in  the  old  warrior's  face,  when  they  two  had 
fought  to  save  Wabigoon's  life  as  they  were 
now  about  to  fight  to  save  Minnetaki.  And 
he  knew  what  it  meant.  Cautiously  they  pen 
etrated  the  forest,  their  eyes  and  ears  alert, 
and,  as  Mukoki  had  predicted,  the  trail  of  the 
retreating  savages  was  quite  distinct.  They 
had  taken  both  of  the  captured  sledges,  and 
Rod  knew  that  on  one  of  these  Minnetaki  was 
being  carried.  Hardly  had  the  three  pro 
gressed  a  hundred  paces  when  Mukoki,  who 
was  in  the  lead,  stopped  short  with  a  huge 
grunt.  Squarely  across  the  trail  lay  the  body 
of  a  dead  man.  A  glance  at  the  upturned  face 
showed  that  it  was  one  of  the  two  drivers  from 
Wabinosh  House. 

"Head  split,"  said  Mukoki,  as  he  led  the 


THE    MAN-FOOTED    BEAR  51 

team  around  the  body.    "Shot,  mebby — then 
killed  with  ax." 

The  dogs  sniffed  and  cringed  as  they  passed 
the  slain  man,  and  Rod  shuddered.  Involun 
tarily  he  thought  of  what  might  have  hap 
pened  to  Minnetaki,  and  he  noticed  that  after 
passing  this  spectacle  of  death  Mukoki  dou 
bled  his  speed.  For  an  hour  the  pursuit  con 
tinued  without  interruption.  The  Woongas 
were  traveling  in  a  narrow  trail,  single  file, 
with  the  two  sledges  between  their  number. 
At  the  end  of  that  hour  the  three  came  upon 
the  remains  of  another  camp-fire  near  which 
were  built  two  cedar-bough  shelters.  Here 
the  tracks  in  the  snow  were  much  fresher;  in 
places  they  seemed  to  have  been  but  lately 
made.  Still  there  were  no  evidences  of  the 
captured  girl.  The  boys  could  see  that  Mu 
koki  himself  had  found  no  explanation  for 
the  sudden  freshness  of  the  trail  and  for  the 
absence  of  Minnetaki's  footprints  among  the 
tracks.  Again  and  again  the  shrewd  old  path 
finder  went  over  the  camp.  Not  a  sign  es 
caped  his  eyes,  not  a  mark  or  a  broken  stick 


52  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

but  that  was  examined  by  him.  Rod  knew 
that  Minnetaki's  capture  must  have  occurred 
at  least  three  days  before,  and  yet  the  tracks 
^bout  this  camp  were  not  more  than  a  day  old, 
if  they  were  that.  What  did  it  mean? 

The  very  mystery  of  the  thing  filled  him 
with  a  nameless  fear.  Why  had  not  the  out 
law  Woongas  continued  their  flight?  Why 
this  delay  so  near  the  scene  of  their  crime? 
He  glanced  at  Wabl,  but  the  Indian  youth 
was  as  bewildered  as  himself.  In  his  eyes, 
too,  there  was  the  gleam  of  a  fear  which  he 
could  not  have  named. 

Mukoki  was  beside  the  charred  remains  of 
the  fire.  He  had  buried  his  hand  deep  among 
them,  and  when  he  rose  be  made  a  sign  to 
ward  Rod's  watch. 

"Eight  o'clock,  Mukoki." 

"Woonga  here  las'  night,"  declared  \.he  old 
Indian  slowly.  "Leave  camp  four  hour  ago!" 

What  did  it  mean? 

Had  Minnetaki  been  hurt,  so  dangerously 
hurt  that  her  captors  had  not  dared  to  move 
her? 


THE   MAN-FOOTED    BEAR  53 

Rod  asked  himself  no  more  questions.  But 
he  was  trembling.  And  Mukoki  and  Wabi- 
goon  went  on  with  strange,  unnatural  faces 
and  breathed  not  the  whisper  of  a  word  be 
tween  them.  The  mystery  was  beyond  them 
all.  But  one  thing  they  realized,  whatever 
had  happened  they  were  close  upon  the  heels 
of  the  savages.  And  each  step  brought  them 
nearer,  for  with  every  mile  the  freshness  of 
the  trail  increased.  Then  came  another  great 
surprise. 

The  trail  divided! 

At  the  edge  of  a  small  opening  the  Indians 
had  separated  themselves  into  two  parties. 
The  trail  of  one  sledge  led  into  the  northeast, 
that  of  the  other  into  the  northwest! 

With  which  sledge  was  Minnetaki?  They 
looked  at  one  another  in  bewilderment. 

Mukoki  pointed  to  the  trail  into  the  north 
east. 

"We  must  fin'  sign — sign  of  Minnetaki. 
You  take  that — I  take  this!" 

Rod  started  off  at  a  dog  trot  over  the  east 
ernmost  trail.  At  the  farther  side  of  the 


54  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

opening,  where  the  sledge  had  plunged  into  a 
clump  of  hazel,  he  suddenly  stopped,  and 
for  a  second  time  that  morning  a  thrilling  cry 
escaped  his  lips.  On  a  projecting  thorny 
twig,  glistening  full  in  the  sun,  there  fluttered1 
a  long,  silken  strand  of  hair.  He  reached  out 
for  it,  but  Wabi  caught  his  hand,  and  in  an 
other  moment  Mukoki  had  joined  them. 
Gently  he  took  the  raven  tress  between  his  rin 
gers,  his  deep-set  eyes  glaring  like  red  coals  of 
fire.  It  was  a  strand  of  Minnetaki's  beauti 
ful  hair,  not  for  a  moment  did  one  of  them 
doubt  that;  but  what  held  them  most,  what 
increased  the  horror  in  their  eyes,  was  the 
quantity  of  it!  Suddenly  Mukoki  gave  it  a 
gentle  pull  and  the  tress  slipped  free  of  the 
twig. 

In  the  next  breath  he  uttered  the  only  ex 
pression  of  supreme  disgust  in  his  vocabulary 
a  long-drawn,  hissing  sound  which  he  used 
only  in  those  moments  when  his  command  of 
English  was  entirely  inadequate  to  the  situa 
tion. 

"Minnetaki  on  other  sledge!" 


THE   MAN-FOOTED   BEAR  55 

He  showed  the  end  of  the  strand  to  his 
young  companions. 

"See — hair  been  cut!  No  pulled  out  by 
twig.  Woonga  hang  heem  there — make  us 
think  wrong." 

He  waited  for  no  reply,  but  darted  back  to 
the  other  trail,  with  Wabi  and  Rod  close  be 
hind  him.  A  quarter  of  a  mile  farther  on  the 
old  pathfinder  paused  and  pointed  in  exultant 
silence  at  a  tiny  footprint  close  beside  the  path 
of  the  sledge.  At  almost  regular  intervals  now 
there  appeared  this  sign  of  Minnetaki's  moc 
casin.  Her  two  guards  were  running  ahead 
of  the  sledge,  and  it  was  apparent  to  the  pur 
suers  that  Wabi's  sister  was  taking  advantage 
of  her  opportunities  to  leave  these  signs  be 
hind  for  those  whom  she  knew  would  make 
an  attempt  at  her  rescue.  And  yet,  as  they  left 
farther  and  farther  behind  them  the  trail 
which  ran  into  the  northeast,  an  inexplicable 
feeling  of  uneasiness  began  to  steal  over  Rod. 
What  if  Mukoki  had  made  a  mistake?  His 
confidence  in  the  old  warrior's  judgment  and 
sagacity  was  usually  absolute,  but  it  occurred 


56  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

to  him,  like  an  ugly  humor  to  stir  up  his  fears, 
that  if  the  Woongas  could  cut  off  a  bit  of  the 
girl's  hair  they  could  also  take  off  one  of  her 
shoes!  Several  times  he  was  on  the  point  of 
giving  audible  voice  to  his  suspicions  but  re 
frained  from  doing  so  when  he  saw  the  as 
surance  with  which  both  Wabi  and  Mukoki 
followed  the  trail. 

Finally  he  could  hold  himself  no  longer. 

"Wabi,  I'm  going  back,"  he  cried  softly, 
forging  alongside  his  companion.  "I'm  going 
back  and  follow  the  other  trail.  If  I  don't 
find  anything  in  a  mile  or  so  I'll  return  on 
the  double-quick  and  overtake  you!" 

Wabi's  efforts  to  dissuade  him  were  futile^ 
and  a  few  minutes  later  Rod  was  again  at  the 
clearing.  What  presentiment  was  it  that 
caused  his  heart  to  beat  faster  and  his  breath 
to  come  in  tense  excitement  as  he  stole  through 
the  bushes  where  they  had  found  the  silker 
tress  of  hair?  What  something  was  it,  awa} 
down  in  his  soul,  that  kept  urging  him  on 
and  on,  even  after  he  had  gone  a  mile,  and 
then  two  miles,  in  fruitless  search?  Rod  could 


THE   MAN-FOOTED   BEAR  57 

have  answered  these  questions  had  he 
stopped  to  ask  them  of  himself.  He  was  not 
superstitious.  He  did  not  believe  in  dreams. 
And  yet  each  moment,  without  apparent  rea* 
son,  added  to  his  conviction  that  Mukoki  had 
made  a  mistake,  and  that  Minnetaki  was  on 
the  sledge  ahead  of  him. 

The  country  into  which  he  was  penetrating 
grew  wilder.  Rocky  ridges  rose  before  him, 
split  by  rifts  and  gullies  through  which  the 
water  must  have  rushed  in  torrents  in  the 
spring.  He  listened,  and  proceeded  more  cau 
tiously;  and  through  his  mind  there  flashed 
a  memory  of  his  thrilling  exploration  of  the 
mysterious  chasm  of  a  few  weeks  before,  when, 
in  his  lonely  night  camp,  he  had  dreamed 
of  the  skeletons.  He  was  thinking  of  this 
when  he  came  around  the  end  of  a  huge  rock 
which  lay  as  big  as  a  house  in  his  path.  Upon 
the  snow,  almost  at  his  feet,  was  a  sight  that 
froze  the  blood  in  his  veins.  For  the  second 
time  that  day  he  gazed  upon  the  distorted  fea 
tures  of  a  dead  man.  Squarely  across  the  trail, 
as  the  other  had  lain,  was  the  body  of  an 


58  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

Indian,  his  arms  outstretched,  his  twisted  face 
turned  straight  up  to  the  clear  sky,  the  snow 
about  his  head  glistening  a  sickening  red  in 
the  sun.  For  a  full  minute  Rod  gazed  in  si- 
ijent  horror  on  the  scene.  There  was  no  sign 
of  a  struggle,  there  were  no  footprints  in  the 
snow.  The  man  had  been  killed  while  upon 
the  sledge,  and  the  only  mark  he  had  made 
was  when  he  had  fallea  off. 

Who  had  killed  him? 

Had  Minnetaki  saved  herself  by  taking  her 
captor's  life? 

For  a  moment  Rod  was  almost  convinced 
that  this  was  so.  He  examined  the  stains  in 
the  snow  and  found  that  they  were  still  damp 
and  unfrozen.  He  was  sure  that  the  tragedy 
had  occurred  less  than  an  hour  before.  More 
cautiously,  and  yet  swifter  than  before,  he  fol 
lowed  the  trail  of  the  sledge,  his  rifle  held  in 
readiness  for  a  shot  at  any  moment.  The  path 
became  wilder  and  in  places  it  seemed  almost 
inaccessible.  But  between  the  tumbled  mass 
of  rock  the  sledge  had  found  its  way,  its  sav 
age  driver  not  once  erring  in  his  choice  of  the 


THE    MAN-FOOTED    BEAR  59 

openings  ahead.  Gradually  the  trail  ascended 
until  it  came  to  the  summit  of  a  huge  ridge. 
Hardly  had  Rod  reached  the  top  when  an 
other  trail  cut  across  that  of  the  sledge. 

Deeply  impressed  in  the  softening  snow 
were  the  footprints  of  a  big  bear! 

The  first  warm  sunshine,  thought  Rod,  had 
aroused  the  beast  from  his  winter  sleep,  and 
he  was  making  a  short  excursion  from  his 
den.  From  where  the  bear  had  crossed  the 
trail  the  sledge  turned  abruptly  in  the  direc 
tion  from  which  the  bear  had  come. 

Without  giving  a  thought  to  his  action,  Rod 
began  his  descent  of  the  ridge  in  the  trail 
made  by  the  bear,  at  the  same  time  keeping 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  sledge  track  and  the 
distant  forest.  At  the  foot  of  the  ridge  the 
great  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree  lay  in  his  path, 
and  as  he  went  to  climb  over  it  he  stopped,  a 
cry  of  amazement  stifling  itself  in  his  throat. 
Over  that  tree  the  bear  had  scrambled,  and 
upon  it,  close  to  the  spot  where  the  animal 
had  brushed  off  the  snow  in  his  passage,  was 
the  imprint  of  a  human  hand! 


50  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

For  a  full  minute  Rod  stood  as  motionless 
as  if  he  had  been  paralyzed,  scarcely  breath 
ing  in  his  excitement.  The  four  fingers  and 
thumb  of  the  hand  had  left  their  impressions 
with  startling  clearness.  The  fingers  were 
long  and  delicately  slender,  the  palm  narrow. 
The  imprint  had  assuredly  not  been  made  by 
the  hand  of  a  manl 

Recovering  himself,  Rod  looked  about  him. 
There  were  no  marks  in  the  snow  except  those 
of  the  bear.  Was  it  possible  that  he  was  mis 
taken?  He  scrutinized  the  mysterious  hand 
print  again.  As  he  gazed  an  uncanny  chill 
crept  through  him,  and  when  he  raised  his 
head  he  knew  that  he  was  trembling  in  spite  of 
his  efforts  to  control  himself.  Turning  about 
he  swiftly  followed  the  trail  to  the  top  of  the 
ridge,  recrossed  the  sledge  track,  and  de 
scended  again  into  the  wildness  of  the  gorge 
on  the  other  side.  He  had  not  progressed 
twenty  rods  when  without  a  sound  he  dropped 
behind  a  rock.  He  had  seen  no  movement 
ahead  of  him.  He  had  heard  nothing.  Yet 


THE   MAN-FOOTED   BEAR  61 

in  that  moment  he  was  thrilled  as  never  before 
in  his  life. 

For  the  bear  trail  had  ceased. 

And  ahead  of  him,  instead  of  the  tracks  of 
a  beast,  there  continued  the  footprints  of  " 
man! 


CHAPTER  V 

ROD'S  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE 

JT  was  some  time  before  Roderick  moved 
from  his  concealment  behind  the  rock. 
It  was  not  fear  that  held  him  there,  but 
a  knowledge  within  him  that  he  needed  to 
think,  to  collect  his  senses  as  he  would  have 
expressed  it  if  Wabi  had  been  with  him.  For 
a  brief  spell  he  was  stunned  by  the  succession 
of  surprises  which  he  had  encountered,  and 
he  felt  that  now,  if  ever  in  his  life,  he  needed 
control  of  himself.  He  did  not  attempt  to 
solve  the  mystery  of  the  trail  beyond  the  fact 
that  it  was  not  made  by  a  bear  and  that  the 
handprint  on  the  log  was  not  made  by  a  man. 
tBut  he  was  certain  of  one  thing.  In  some  way 
Minnetaki  was  associated  with  both. 

When  he  continued  his  pursuit  he  made  his 
way  with  extreme  caution.    At  each  new  turn 

62 


ROD'S  FIGHT  FOR  LIFE  63 

in  the  trail  he  fell  behind  some  rock  or  clump 
of  bushes  and  scanned  the  gorge  as  far  as  he 
could  see  ahead  of  him.  But  each  moment 
these  distances  of  observation  became  shorter 
The  ridge  on  his  left  became  almost  a  sheer 
wall;  on  his  right  a  second  ridge  closed  in 
until  the  gorge  had  narrowed  to  a  hundred 
feet  in  width,  choked  by  huge  masses  of  rock 
thrown  there  in  some  mighty  upheaval  of  past 
ages.  It  was  very  soon  apparent  to  Rod  that 
the  mysterious  person  whom  he  was  pursuing 
was  perfectly  at  home  in  the  lonely  chasm. 
As  straight  as  a  drawn  whip-lash  his  trail  led 
from  one  break  in  the  rocky  chaos  to  another. 
Never  did  he  err.  Once  the  tracks  seemed  to 
end  squarely  against  a  broad  face  of  rock, 
but  there  the  young  hunter  found  a  cleft  in 
the  granite  wall  scarcely  wider  than  his  body, 
through  which  he  cautiously  wormed  his  way. 
Where  this  cleft  opened  into  the  chasm  again 
the  fugitive  had  rested  for  a  few  moments, 
and  had  placed  some  burden  upon  the  snow 
at  his  feet.  A  single  glance  disclosed  what 
is  burden  had  been,  for  in  the  snow  was  that 


64  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

same  clearly-defined  impression  of  a  human 
hand! 

There  was  no  longer  a  doubt  in  Roderick's 
mind.  He  was  on  the  trail  of  Minnetaki's  cap 
tor,  and  the  outlaw  was  carrying  his  victim  in 
his  arms!  Minnetaki  was  injured!  Perhaps 
she  was  dead.  The  fear  gripped  at  his  heart 
until  he  looked  again  at  the  imprint  in  the 
snow — the  widely  spread  fingers,  the  flat,  firm 
palm.  Only  a  living  hand  would  have  left  its 
mark  in  that  manner. 

As  on  that  autumn  day  in  the  forest,  when 
he  had  fought  for  Minnetaki's  life,  so  now  all 
hesitation  and  fear  left  him.  His  blood  leaped 
with  anticipation  rather  than  excitement,  and 
he  was  eager  for  the  moment  when  he  would 
once  more  throw  his  life  in  the  balance  in  be 
half  of  Wabi's  sister.  He  was  determined  to 
take  advantage  of  the  Woonga  fighting  code 
and  fire  upon  his  enemy  from  ambush  if  the 
opportunity  offered,  but  at  the  same  time  he 
had  no  dread  at  the  thought  of  engaging  in  a 
closer  struggle  if  this  should  be  necessary.  He 
looked  well  to  his  rifle,  loosened  his  big  army 


ROD'S    FIGHT    FOR    LIFE  65 

revolver  in  its  holster,  and  saw  that  his  hunt 
ing-knife  did  not  stick  in  its  scabbard.  A  short 
distance  from  the  cleft  in  the  wall  of  rock  the 
outlaw  had  rested  again;  and  this  time,  when 
he  continued  his  flight,  Minnetaki  had  walked 
beside  him. 

A  peculiarity  in  the  new  trail  struck  Rod. 
and  for  some  moments  he  was  at  a  loss  to  ac 
count  for  it.  One  of  the  girl's  dainty  feet  left 
its  moccasin  imprint  very  distinctly;  the  mark 
of  the  other  was  no  more  than  a  formless 
blotch  in  the  snow.  Then  the  youth  thought 
of  the  footprints  that  were  leading  on  Mukoki 
and  Wabigoon,  and  despite  his  desperate  situ 
ation  he  could  not  repress  a  smile.  He  had 
been  right.  The  Woongas  had  taken  off  one 
of  Minnetaki's  moccasins  and  were  using  it  to 
make  a  false  trail  into  the  northwest.  Those 
formless  tracks  ahead  of  him  meant  that  one 
of  the  Indian  maiden's  feet  was  wrapped  with 
a  bit  of  cloth  or  fur  to  protect  it  from  the  cold. 

Rod  soon  perceived  that  the  flight  of  the 
outlaw  and  his  captive  was  now  much  more 
rapid,  and  he  quickened  his  own  pace. 


66  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

chasm  grew  wilder.  At  times  it  appeared  im« 
passable,  but  always  the  trail  of  the  fugitives 
led  straight  to  some  hidden  cleft  through 
which  the  boy  followed,  holding  his  breath  in 
tense  expectancy  of  what  might  happen  at  any 
instant. 

Suddenly  Rod  stopped.  From  ahead  of  him 
he  was  sure  that  he  had  heard  a  sound.  He 
scarcely  breathed  while  he  listened.  But  there 
came  no  repetition  of  the  noise.  Had  some 
animal,  a  fox  or  a  wolf,  perhaps,  set  a  stone 
rolling  down  one  of  the  precipitous  walls  of 
the  chasm?  He  went  on  slowly,  listening, 
watching.  A  few  paces  more  and  he  stopped 
again.  There  was  a  faint,  suspicious  odor  in 
the  air;  a  turn  around  the  end  of  a  huge  mass 
of  rock  and  his  nostrils  were  filled  with  it,  the 
pungent  odor  of  smoke  mingled  with  the  sweet 
scent  of  burning  cedar! 

There  was  a  fire  ahead  of  him.  More  than 
that,  it  was  not  a  gunshot  away! 

For  a  space  of  sixty  seconds  he  stood  still, 
nerving  himself  for  the  final  step.  His  resolu 
tion  was  made.  He  would  creep  upon  the  out- 


ROD'S   FIGHT   FOR   LIFE  67 

law  and  shoot  him  down.  There  would  be  no 
warning,  no  quarter,  no  parley.  Foot  by  foot 
he  advanced,  as  stealthily  as  a  fox.  The  odor 
of  smoke  came  to  him  more  plainly;  over  his 
head  he  saw  thin  films  of  it  floating  lazily  up 
the  chasm.  It  came  from  beyond  another  of 
those  walls  of  rock  which  seemed  to  bar  his 
way,  creeping  up  over  it  as  though  the  fire 
were  just  on  the  other  side.  With  his  rifle  half 
to  his  shoulder  Rod  stole  through  the  break 
in  this  wall.  At  its  farther  end  he  peered  out 
cautiously,  exposing  his  face  an  inch  at  a  time. 
Wider  and  wider  became  his  vision.  There 
was  no  trail  ahead.  The  outlaw  and  his  cap 
tive  were  behind  the  rock! 

With  his  rifle  now  full  to  his  shoulder  Rod 
stepped  boldly  forth  and  whirled  to  the  left. 
Twenty  feet  away,  almost  entirely  concealed 
among  the  tumbled  masses  of  boulders,  was  a 
small  cabin.  About  it  there  were  no  signs  of 
life  with  the  exception  of  a  thin  wreath  of 
smoke  rising  like  a  ghostly  spiral  up  the  side 
of  the  chasm  wall;  from  it  there  came  no 
sound.  Rod's  index  finger  quivered  on  the 


68  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

trigger  of  his  rifle.  Should  he  wait — until  the 
outlaw  came  forth?  Half  a  minute  he  stood 
there,  a  minute,  two  minutes,  and  still  he  heard 
nothing,  saw  nothing.  He  advanced  a  step, 
then  another,  and  still  another,  until  he  saw 
the  open  door  of  the  cabin.  And  as  he  stood 
there,  his  rifle  leveled,  there  came  to  him  a 
faint,  sobbing  cry,  a  cry  that  reached  out  and 
caught  him  like  a  strong  hand  and  brought 
him  in  a  single  desperate  leap  to  the  door  it 
self. 

Inside  the  cabin  was  Minnetaki,  alone!  She 
was  crouched  upon  the  floor,  her  beautiful 
hair  tumbling  in  disheveled  masses  over  her 
shoulders  and  into  her  lap,  her  face,  as  white 
as  death,  staring  wildly  at  the  youth  who  had 
appeared  like  an  apparition  before  her. 

In  an  instant  Rod  was  at  her  side,  upon  nis 
knees.  For  that  brief  moment  he  had  lost  his 
caution,  and  only  a  terrible  cry  from  the  girl 
turned  him  back  again,  half  upon  his  feet,  to 
the  door.  Standing  there,  about  to  spring  upon 
him,  was  one  of  the  most  terrifying  figures  he 
had  ever  seen.  In  a  flash  he  saw  the  huge  form 


ROD'S   FIGHT   FOR   LIFE  69 

of  an  Indian,  a  terrible  face,  the  gleam  of  an 
uplifted  knife.  In  such  a  crisis  one's  actions 
are  involuntary,  machine-like,  as  if  life  itself, 
hovering  by  a  thread,  protects  itself  in  its  own 
manner  without  thought  or  reasoning  on  the 
part  of  the  human  creature  it  animates.  Rod 
neither  thought  nor  reasoned ;  without  any  mo 
tive  on  his  own  part,  he  flung  himself  face 
downward  upon  the  cabin  floor.  And  the 
move  saved  him.  With  a  guttural  cry  the 
savage  leaped  toward  him,  struck  out  with  his 
knife  and  missed,  stumbled  over  thf  boy's 
prostrate  form  and  fell  beside  him. 

Months  of  hardship  and  adventure  in  the 
wilderness  had  made  Rod  as  lithe  as  a  forest 
cat,  his  muscles  like  steel.  Without  rising  he 
flung  himself  upon  his  enemy,  his  own  knife 
raised  in  gleaming  death  above  the  savage's 
breast.  But  the  Woonga  was  as  quick.  Like  a 
flash  he  struck  up  with  one  of  his  powerful 
arms  and  the  force  of  the  blow  that  was  de 
scending  upon  him  fell  to  the  earth  floor  In 
another  instant  his  free  arm  had  encir  led 
Rod's  neck,  and  for  a  few  brief  moments  the 


70  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

two  were  locked  in  a  crushing  embrace, 
neither  being  able  to  use  the  weapon  in  his 
hand  without  offering  an  advantage  to  the 
other. 

In  that  respite,  which  only  death  could  fol 
low,  Rod's  brain  worked  with  the  swiftness  of 
fire.  He  was  lying  face  downward  upon  his 
enemy;  the  Woonga  was  flat  upon  his  back, 
the  latter's  knife  hand  stretched  out  behind  his 
head  with  Rod's  knife  hand  locking  it.  For 
either  to  strike  a  blow  both  of  their  fighting 
hands  must  be  freed.  In  the  first  instant  of  that, 
freedom,  the  savage,  with  his  arm  already  ex 
tended,  could  deliver  a  blow  sooner  than  his 
antagonist,  who  would  have  to  raise  his  arm 
as  well  as  strike.  In  other  words,  by  the  time 
Rod's  knife  was  poised  his  enemy's  would  be 
buried  in  his  breast.  With  a  curious  thrill  the 
white  youth  saw  the  fearful  odds  against  him 
in  their  position.  If  he  remained  clutched  in 
the  Indian's  embrace  there  would  be  only  one 
end.  He  would  die,  and  Minnetaki  would  be 
more  than  ever  in  the  power  of  her  captor. 

There  was  only  ope  chance  now,  and  that 


ROD'S    FIGHT   FOR   LIFE  71 

was  to  break  away,  at  least  to  free  himself 
enough  to  get  hold  of  his  revolver.  He  was 
nerving  himself  for  the  strain  when,  turning 
his  head  a  trifle  sidewise,  he  saw  Minnetaki. 
The  girl  had  risen  to  her  feet,  and  Rod  saw 
:hat  her  hands  were  bound  behind  her.  She, 
too,  realized  the  disadvantage  of  Rod's  posi 
tion  in  the  contest,  and  now  with  a  thrilling 
cry  she  sprang  to  the  outlaw's  head  and 
stepped  with  all  her  weight  upon  his  extended 
arm. 

"Quick,  Rod — quick!"  she  cried.  "Strike! 
Strike!" 

With  a  terrible  yell  the  powerful  savage 
wrenched  his  arm  free;  in  a  last  superhuman 
effort  he  swung  his  knife  upward  as  Rod's 
blade  sank  to  the  hilt  in  his  breast,  and  the 
blow  fell  with  a  sickening  thud  under  Rod's 
arm.  With  a  sharp  cry  the  young  hunter  stag 
gered  to  his  feet,  and  the  Indian's  knife  fell 
from  him,  red  with  blood.  Making  an  effort 
to  control  himself  he  picked  up  the  knife  and 
loosed  the  captive  girl's  arms. 

There  came  over  hkn  then  a  strange  dizzi- 


72  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

ness,  a  weakness  in  his  limbs.  He  was  con 
scious  that  his  head  was  sinking,  and  he  knew, 
too,  that  a  pair  of  arms  was  about  him,  and 
that  from  what  seemed  to  be  a  great,  great  dis 
tance  a  voice  was  calling  to  him,  calling  his 
name.  And  then  he  seemed  to  be  sinking  into 
a  deep  and  painless  sleep. 

When  he  regained  consciousness  his  eyes 
were  first  turned  to  the  door,  which  was  still 
open,  and  through  which  he  caught  the  white 
gleam  of  the  snow.  A  hand  was  pressed  gently 
upon  his  face. 

"Rod—" 

Minnetaki  spoke  in  a  whisper,  a  whisper 
that  trembled  with  gladness,  with  relief.  Rod 
smiled.  Weakly  he  lifted  a  hand  and  touched 
the  sweet,  white  face  above  him. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you — Minne-taki — "  he 
breathed. 

The  girl  quickly  put  a  cup  of  cold  water  to 
his  lips. 

"You  mustn't  try  to  move,"  she  said  softly, 
her  eyes  glowing.  "It  isn't  a  very  bad  woundj 
and  I've  dressed  it  nicely.  But  you  mustn't 


ROD'S    FIGHT    FOR    LIFE  73 

move — or  talk — or  it  may  begin  bleeding 
again." 

"But  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you,  Minnetaki," 
persisted  the  youth.  "You  don't  know  how 
disappointed  I  was  to  find  you  gone  when  we 
returned  to  Wabinosh  House  from  our  hunt 
ing  trip.  Wabi  and  Mukoki — " 

"Sh-h-h-h!" 

Minnetaki  placed  her  hand  upon  his  lips. 

"You  must  keep  quiet,  Roderick.  Don't 
you  know  how  curious  I  am  to  know  how  you 
are  here?  But  you  must  not  tell  me — now. 
Let  me  do  the  talking.  Will  you?  Please!" 

Involuntarily  the  young  girl's  eyes  left  his 
face,  and  Rod,  weakly  following  her  gaze, 
saw  that  a  blanket  had  been  spread  over  a  hud 
dled  heap  in  the  middle  of  the  floor.  He  shud 
dered,  and  feeling  the  sudden  tremor  in  his 
hand  Minnetaki  turned  to  him  quickly,  her 
cheeks  whiter  than  before,  but  her  eyes  shining 
like  stars. 

"It  is  Woonga,"  she  whispered.  In  her 
voice  was  a  thrilling  tremble.  "It  is  Woonga, 
and  he  is  dead!" 


74  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

Rod  understood  the  look  in  her  face  now. 
Woonga,  the  Nemesis  of  her  people,  the  out 
law  chief  who  had  sworn  vengeance  on  the 
house  of  Wabinosh,  and  whose  murderous 
hand  had  hovered  for  years  like  a  threatening 
cloud  over  the  heads  of  the  factor  and  his  wife 
and  children,  was  dead!  And  he,  Roderick 
Drew,  who  once  before  had  saved  Minnetaki's 
life,  had  killed  him.  In  his  weakness  and  pain 
he  smiled,  and  said, 

"I  am  glad,  Minne — " 

He  did  not  finish.  There  had  come  a 
stealthy,  crumbling  step  to  the  door,  and  in  an 
other  moment  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon  were 
in  the  little  cabin. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  SHADOW  OF  DEATH 

ROD  was  hardly  conscious  of  what 
passed  during  the  next  half-hour. 
The  excitement  of  the  sudden  en 
trance  of  Minnetaki's  brother  and  the  old  In 
dian  set  his  head  reeling,  and  he  sank  back 
upon  the  blankets,  from  which  he  had  partly 
raised  himself,  fainting  and  weak.  The  last 
that  he  heard  was  Minnetaki's  warning  voice, 
and  then  he  felt  something  cool  upon  his  face. 
It  seemed  a  long  time  before  he  heard  sound 
again,  and  when  he  stirred  himself,  struggling 
toward  consciousness,  there  came  a  whisper  in 
his  ear  urging  him  to  be  quiet.  It  was  Minne- 
taki,  and  he  obeyed. 

After  a  little  he  heard  low  voices,  and  then 
movement,  and  opened  his  eyes.  He  could 
feel  Minnetaki's  gentle  hand  stroking  his  face 
and  hair,  as  if  weaning  him  to  sleep,  and  at 

75 


76  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

his  feet  he  saw  Mukoki,  the  old  warrior, 
crouching  like  a  lynx,  his  beady  eyes  glaring 
at  him.  The  glare  fascinated  Roderick.  He 
had  seen  it  in  Mukoki's  eyes  before,  when  the 
Indian  believed  that  injury  had  come  to  those 
he  loved ;  and  when  the  white  boy  saw  it  now, 
bent  upon  himself,  he  knew  that  he,  too,  had 
become  more  than  a  friend  to  this  savage  path 
finder  of  the  wilderness.  Minnetaki's  caress 
ing  hand  and  the  fearful  anxiety  in  the  crouch 
ing  posture  of  the  old  hunter  thrilled  him,  and 
two  words  fell  from  his  lips  before  they  knew 
that  he  had  come  back  into  life. 

"Hello,  Muky!" 

Instantly  the  old  Indian  was  at  his  side, 
kneeling  there  silent,  trembling,  his  face 
twitching  with  joy,  his  eyes  gleaming,  and 
where  he  had  crouched  a  moment  before  there 
came  Wabigoon,  smiling  down  upon  Rod  in 
his  own  bursting  happiness,  which  was  only 
held  in  check  by  Minnetaki's  hand  and  the  al 
most  inaudible  "Sh-h-h-h!"  that  fell  from  her 
lips. 

"You   right — me  wrong,"  the  white  boy 


THE   SHADOW   OF   DEATH          77 

heard  Mukoki  saying.  "You  save  Minnetaki 
— kill  Woonga.  Very  much  dam' — dam' — 
— dam' — brave  manl" 

Mukoki  was  pressed  back  by  Wabi's  sister 
before  he  could  say  more,  and  a  cool  drink  of 
spring  water  was  placed  to  Roderick's  lips. 
He  felt  feverish  and  the  water  gave  him  new 
strength.  He  turned  his  face  to  Minnetaki, 
and  she  smiled  at  him.  Then  he  saw  that  the 
dead  outlaw  had  been  removed  from  the 
cabin.  When  he  made  an  effort  to  raise  him 
self  a  little  the  girl  helped  him,  and  rolled  a 
blanket  under  his  shoulders. 

"You're  not  so  badly  hurt  as  I  thought  you 
were,  Rod,"  she  said.  "That  is,  you're  not 
dangerously  hurt.  Mukoki  has  dressed  your 
wound,  and  you  will  be  better  soon."  Wabi- 
goon,  coming  nearer,  put  both  arms  around 
his  lovely  little  sister  and  kissed  her  again  and 
again. 

"Rod,  you're  a  hero!"  he  cried  softly,  grip'/ 
ping  his  comrade's  hand.  "God  bless  you!" 

Rod  blushed,  and  to  restrain  further  effu 
sions  closed  his  eyes.  During  the  next  quarter 


78  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

of  an  hour  Minnetaki  prepared  some  coffee 
and  meat,  while  both  Mukoki  and  Wabi  cared 
for  the  sledge-dogs  outside. 

"To-morrow,  if  you  are  stronger,  we're  go 
ing  to  take  you  on  to  Kenegami  House,"  the 
girl  said  to  him.  "Then  you  can  tell  me  all 
about  your  adventures  during  the  winter. 
Wabi  has  told  me  just  enough  about  your  bat 
tles  with  the  Indians  and  about  the  old  skele 
tons  and  the  lost  gold-mine  to  set  me  wild. 
Oh,  I  wish  you  would  take  me  with  you  on 
your  hunt  for  gold!" 

"By  George,  I  wish  we  could!"  exclaimed 
Rod  with  enthusiasm.  "Coax  Wabi,  Minne 
taki — coax  him  hard." 

"You'll  coax  him,  too,  won't  you,  Rod? 
But  then,  I  don't  suppose  it  will  do  any  good. 
And  father  and  mother  wouldn't  listen  to  it 
for  a  moment  All  of  them  are  so  afraid  that 
some  harm  is  going  to  befall  me.  That's  why 
they  sent  me  from  Wabinosh  House  just  be 
fore  you  boys  returned.  You  see  the  Indians 
were  more  hostile  than  ever,  and  they  thought 
I  would  be  safer  at  Kenegami  House.  How 


THE   SHADOW   OF   DEATH          79 

I  do  wish  they'd  let  me  go!  I'd  love  to  hunt 
bears,  and  wolves,  and  moose,  and  help  you 
find  the  gold.  Please  coax  him  hard,  Roder 
ick!" 

And  that  very  day,  when  he  was  strong 
enough  to  sit  up,  Rod  did  plead  with  his  half- 
Indian  comrade  that  Minnetaki  might  be  al 
lowed  to  accompany  them.  But  Wabi  stanchly 
refused  even  to  consider  the  proposition,  and 
Mukoki,  when  he  learned  of  the  girl's  desire, 
grinned  and  chuckled  in  his  astonishment  for 
the  next  half-hour. 

"Minnetaki  ver'  brave — ver'  brave  girl,"  he 
confided  to  Rod,  "but  she  die  up  there,  I  guess 
sol  You  want  Minnetaki  die?" 

Rod  assured  him  that  he  did  not,  and  the 
subject  was  dropped. 

That  day  and  night  in  the  old  cabin  was  one 
of  the  pleasantest  within  Rod's  memory,  de 
spite  the  youth's  wound.  A  cheerful  fire  of 
dry  pine  and  poplar  burned  in  the  stone  fire 
place,  and  when  Minnetaki  announced  that 
the  evening  meal  was  ready  Rod  was  for  the 
first  time  allowed  to  leave  his  bunk.  For  the 


8o  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

greater  part  of  the  day  Wabi  and  Mukoki  had 
searched  in  the  chasm  and  along  the  moun 
tains  for  signs  of  the  outlaw  Indian's  band,  but 
their  search  had  revealed  nothing  to  arouse 
their  fears.  As  mysterious  and  unaccountable 
as  the  fact  seemed,  there  was  no  doubt  that  the 
old  cabin  was  a  retreat  known  only  to  Woonga 
himself,  and  as  the  four  sat  in  the  warm  glow 
of  the  fire,  eating  and  drinking,  the  whole  ad 
venture  was  gone  over  again  and  again  until 
there  seemed  no  part  of  it  left  in  doubt.  Min- 
netaki  described  her  capture  and  explained 
the  slowness  of  their  flight  after  the  massacre. 
Woonga  was  ill  and  had  refused  to  move  far 
from  the  scene  of  the  slaughter  until  he  had 
fully  regained  his  strength. 

"But  why  did  Woonga  kill  the  Indian  back 
on  the  trail?"  asked  Rod. 

Minnetaki  shuddered  as  she  thought  of  the 
terrible  scene  that  had  been  enacted  before  her 
eyes. 

"I  heard  them  quarreling,"  she  said,  "but  I 
couldn't  understand.  I  know  that  it  was  about 
me.  We  had  gone  but  a  short  distance  after 


THE   SHADOW   OF   DEATH          8t 

the  sledges  separated  when  Woonga,  who  was 
ahead  of  me,  turned  about  and  shot  the  other 
in  the  breast.  It  was  terrible!  And  then  he 
drove  on  as  coolly  as  though  nothing  had  hap 
pened." 

"I'm  curious  to  know  how  he  used  the  bear's 
feet,"  exclaimed  Rod. 

"They  were  huge  pads  into  which  he 
slipped  his  feet,  moccasins  and  all,"  explained 
Minnetaki.  "He  told  me  that  the  dogs  would 
go  on  to  Kenegami  House,  and  that  if  pursuers 
followed  us  they  would  follow  the  sledge  trail 
and  never  give  a  thought  to  the  bear  tracks." 

Mukoki  chuckled  deep  down  in  his  throat. 

"He  no  fool  Rod,"  he  said.  "Nobody  fool 
Rod!" 

"Especially  when  he's  on  Miaiietaki's  trail," 
laughed  Wabi  happily. 

"Wasn't  it  Rod  who  discovered  the  secret  of 
the  lost  gold,  after  you  had  given  up  all 
hope?"  retorted  Minnetaki. 

The  lost  gold! 

How  those  three  words,  falling  clearly  from 
the  girl's  lips,  thrilled  the  hearts  of 


82  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

and  the  young  adventurers.  Night  had  closed 
in,  and  only  the  fitful  flashes  of  the  fire  il 
lumined  the  interior  of  the  old  cabin.  The 
four  had  finished  eating,  and  as  they  drew 
themselves  close  about  the  fire  there  fell  a 
strange  silence  among  them.  The  lost  gold 
Rod  gazed  across  at  Wabigoon,  whose 
bronzed  face  was  half  hid  in  the  dancing 
shadows,  and  then  at  Mukoki,  whose  wrinkled 
visage  shone  like  dull  copper  as  he  stared  like 
some  watchful  animal  into  the  flame  glow. 
But  it  was  Minnetaki  who  sent  the  blood  in  a 
swift  rush  of  joy  and  pride  through  his  veins. 
He  caught  her  eyes  upon  him,  shining  like 
star?  from  out  of  the  gloom,  and  he  knew  that 
she  was  looking  at  him  in  that  way  because  he 
was  her  hero. 

For  many  minutes  no  one  broke  the  stillness. 
The  fire  burned  down,  and  with  its  slow  dying 
away  the  gloom  in  the  corners  of  the  old  cabin 
thickened,  and  the  faces  became  more  and 
more  like  ghostly  shadows,  until  they  re 
minded  Rod  of  his  first  vision  of  the  ancient 
skeletons  in  that  other  old  cabin  many  miles 


THE    SHADOW   OF   DEATH          83 

away.  Then  came  Wabigoon's  voice,  as  he 
stirred  the  coals  and  added  fresh  fuel. 

"Yes,  it  was  Rod.  This  is  the  map  he  found, 
Minnetaki." 

He  kneeled  close  beside  his  sister  and  drew 
forth  his  copy  of  the  precious  secret  which  the 
skeletons  had  guarded.  With  a  little  cry  of  ex 
citement  the  girl  took  the  map  in  her  hands, 
and  step  by  step,  adventure  by  adventure,  was 
gone  over  the  thrilling  story  of  the  Wolf 
Hunters,  until  the  late  hours  of  night  had 
changed  into  the  first  of  morning.  Twice  did 
Minnetaki  insist  on  having  repeated  to  her  the 
story  of  Rod's  wild  adventure  in  the  mysteri 
ous  chasm,  and  when  he  came  to  the  terrors  of 
that  black  night  and  its  strange  sounds  Rod 
felt  a  timid  little  hand  come  close  to  him,  and 
as  Wabigoon  continued  the  narration,  and  told 
of  the  map  in  the  skeleton  hand,  and  of  the  tale 
of  murder  and  tragedy  it  revealed,  Minne- 
taki's  breath  came  in  quick,  tense  eagerness. 

"And  you  are  going  back  in  the  spring?" 
she  asked. 

"In  the  spring,"  replied  Rod. 


84  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

Again  Wabigoon  urged  Rod,  as  he  had 
done  at  the  Post,  to  send  down  to  civilization 
for  his  mother  instead  of  going  for  her  him 
self.  Time  would  be  saved,  he  argued.  They 
could  set  out  on  their  search  for  the  gold  with 
in  a  few  weeks.  But  Rod  was  firm. 

"It  would  not  be  fair  to  mother,"  he  de 
clared.  "I  must  go  home  first,  even  if  I  have 
to  arrange  for  a  special  sledge  at  Kenegami 
House  to  take  me  down  to  civilization." 

But  even  while  he  was  stoutly  declaring 
what  it  was  his  intention  to  do,  fate  was 
stealthily  at  work  weaving  another  of  her 
webs  of  destiny  for  Roderick  Drew,  and  his 
friends*  anxious  eyes  saw  the  first  signs  of  it 
when  they  bade  him  good  night.  For  fever 
had  laid  its  hand  on  the  white  youth,  the  fever 
that  foreshadows  death  unless  a  surgeon  is 
near,  the  fever  of  a  wound  going  bad.  Even 
Mukoki,  graduated  by  Nature,  taught  by  half 
a  century's  battle  with  life  in  this  great  desola 
tion  of  the  North,  knew  that  his  own  powers 
were  now  of  no  avail. 

So  Roderick  was  bundled  in  blankets,  and 


THE   SHADOW   OF   DEATH          85 

the  race  for  life  to  Kenegami  House  was  be 
gun.  It  was  a  race  of  which  Rod  could  only 
guess  the  import,  for  he  did  not  know  that 
Death  was  running  a  fierce  pursuit  behind. 
Many  days  and  nights  of  delirium  followed. 
One  morning  he  seemed  to  awaken  from  a  ter 
rible  dream,  in  which  he  was  constantly  burn 
ing  and  roasting,  and  when  he  opened  his  eyes 
he  knew  for  the  first  time  that  it  was  Minne- 
taki  who  sat  close  beside  him,  and  that  it  was 
her  hand  that  was  gently  stroking  his  fore 
head.  From  that  day  on  he  gained  strength 
rapidly,  but  it  was  a  month  before  he  could  sit 
up,  and  another  two  weeks  before  he  could 
stand.  And  so  i-t  happened  that  it  was  full  two 
months  after  he  had  made  his  assertion  in  the 
old  cabin  before  Rod  was  in  good  health 
again. 

One  day  Minnetaki  had  a  tremendous  sur 
prise  in  store  for  him.  Rod  had  never  seen  her 
look  quite  so  pretty,  or  quite  so  timid,  as  she 
did  on  this  particular  morning. 

"Will  you  forgive  me  for — for — keeping 
something  from  you,  Rod?"  she  asked.  She 


36  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

did  not  wait  for  the  boy's  reply,  but  went  on. 
"When  you  were  so  sick,  and  we  thought  you 
might  die,  I  wrote  to  your  mother  and  we  sent 
the  letter  down  by  a  special  sledge.  And — 
and — oh,  Rod,  I  just  can't  keep  it  in  any 
longer,  no  matter  if  you  do  scold  me!  You: 
mother  has  come — and  she  is  at  Wabinosh 
House  now!" 

For  a  moment  Rod  stood  like  one  struck 

dumb.  Then  he  found  his  voice  in  a  series  of 

war- whoops  which  quickly  brought  Wabi  in, 

'only  to  see  his  friend  dancing  around  Minne- 

taki  like  one  gone  crazy. 

"Forgive  you!"  he  shouted  again  and  again. 
"Minnetaki,  you're  a  brick — you  certainly  are 
a  brick!" 

As  soon  as  Wabi  was  made  acquainted  with 
the  cause  of  Roderick's  excitement  he  also 
joined  in  the  other's  wild  rejoicing,  and  theii 
antics  startled  half  the  house  of  Kenegami. 
Mukoki  shared  their  joy,  and  Wabi  hugged 
and  kissed  his  sister  until  her  pretty  face  was 
like  a  wild  rose. 

"Hurrah !"  shouted  Wabi  for  the  twentieth 


THE   SHADOW  OF  DEATH         87 

time.  "That  means  we  start  on  our  hunt  for 
the  lost  gold-mine  within  a  fortnight!" 

"It  means — "  began  Roderick. 

"It  means — "  interrupted  Minnetaki,  "it 

neans  that  you're  all  happy  but  me — and  I'm 

glad  for  Rod's  sake,  and  I  want  to  know  his 

mother.  But  you're  all  going — and  I'm  to  be 

left  behind!" 

There  was  no  laughter  in  her  voice,  and 
Rod  and  Wabigoon  became  suddenly  quiet  as 
she  turned  away. 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Wabi.  "But — we  can't 
help  it." 

Mukoki  broke  the  tension. 

"How  bright  the  sun  shine!"  he  exclaimed- 
"Snow  an'  ice  go.  Spring — heem  here!" 


CHAPTER 

ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  GOLD 

A"D  each  day  thereafter  the  sun  rose 
earlier,  and  the  day  was  longer,  and 
the  air  was  warmer;   and  with  the 
warmth  there  now  came  the  sweet  scents  of  the 
budding  earth  and  the  myriad  sounds  of  the 
deep,  unseen  life  of  the  forests,  awakening 
from  its  long  slumber  in  its  bed  of  snow.  The 
moose-birds  chirped  their  mating  songs  and 
flirted  from  morning  till  night  in  bough  and 
air,  and  the  jays  and  ravens  fluffed  themselves 
in  the  sun,  and  the  snowbirds,  little  black  and 
white  beauties  that  were  wont  to  whisk  about 
like  so  many  flashing  gems,  became  fewer 
and  fewer,  until  they  were  gone  altogether. 
The  poplar  buds  swelled  more  and  more  in 
their  joy,  until  they  split  like  over-fat  peas, 
and  the  partridges  feasted  upon  them. 
And  Mother  Bear  came  out  of  her  winter 
88 


ON   THE  TRAIL  OF  GOLD          89 

den,  accompanied  by  her  little  ones  born  two 
months  before,  and  taught  them  how  to  pull 
down  the  slender  saplings  for  these  same  buds; 
and  the  moose  came  down  from  the  blizzardy 
tops  of  the  great  ridges,  which  are  called 
mountains  in  the  North,  and  where  for  good 
reasons  they  had  passed  the  winter,  followed 
by  the  wolves,  who  fed  upon  their  weak  and 
sick.  Everywhere  there  were  the  rushing  tor 
rents  of  melting  snows,  the  crackle  of  crum 
bling  ice,  the  dying  frost-cries  of  rock  and 
earth  and  tree,  and  each  night  the  cold,  pale 
glow  of  the  Aurora  Borealis  crept  farther  and 
farther  toward  the  Pole  in  fading  glory. 

It  was  spring,  and  at  Wabinosh  House  it 
brought  more  joy  than  elsewhere,  for  there 
Roderick  Drew  joined  his  mother.  We  have 
not  time  here  to  dwell  on  the  things  that  hap 
pened  at  the  old  Hudson  Bay  Post  during  the 
ten  days  after  their  first  happy  reunion — of 
the  love  that  sprang  up  between  Rod's  mother 
and  Minnetaki,  and  the  princess  wife  of 
George  Newsome,  the  factor;  of  the  departure 
of  the  soldiers  whose  task  of  running  down 


90  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

Woonga  ended  with  Rod's  desperate  fight  in 
the  cabin,  or  of  the  preparations  of  the  gold 
hunters  themselves. 

On  a  certain  evening  in  April,  Wabi,  Mu- 
koki  and  Rod  had  assembled  in  the  latter's 
room.  The  next  morning  they  were  to  start 
on  their  long  and  thrilling  adventure  into  the 
far  North,  and  on  this  last  night  they  went, 
carefully  over  their  equipment  and  plans  to 
see  that  nothing  had  been  forgotten.  That 
night  Rod  slept  little.  For  the  second  time  in 
his  life  the  fever  of  adventure  was  running 
wild  in  his  blood.  After  the  others  had  gone 
he  studied  the  precious  old  map  until  his  eyes 
grew  dim;  in  the  half  slumber  that  came  to 
him  afterward  his  brain  worked  ceaselessly, 
and  he  saw  visions  of  the  romantic  old  cabin 
again,  and  the  rotting  buckskin  bag  filled  with 
nuggets  of  gold  on  the  table. 

He  was  up  before  the  stars  began  fading 

'in  the  dawn,  and  in  the  big  dining-room  of  the 

Post,  in  which  had  gathered  the  factors  and 

their  families  for  two  hundred  years,  the  boys 

ate  their  last  breakfast  with  those  whom  they 


ON    THE   TRAIL   OF   GOLD          91 

vn-ere  about  to  leave  for  many  weeks,  perhaps 
months.  The  factor  himself  was  boisterously 
cheerful  in  his  efforts  to  keep  up  the  good 
cheer  of  Mrs.  Drew  and  the  princess  mother, 
and  even  Minnetaki  forced  herself  to  smile 
and  laugh,  though  her  eyes  were  red,  and  all 
knew  that  she  had  been  crying.  Rod  was  glad 
when  the  meal  was  over  and  they  went  out 
into  the  chill  air  of  the  morning,  and  down  to 
the  edge  of  the  lake,  where  their  big  birch- 
bark  canoe  was  loaded  and  waiting  for  their 
departure,  and  he  was  still  more  relieved  when 
they  had  bade  a  last  good-by  to  the  two 
mothers.  But  Minnetaki  came  down  to  the 
canoe  with  them,  and  when  Wabi  kissed  her 
she  burst  into  tears,  and  Rod  felt  a  queer 
thickening  in  his  throat  as  he  took  her  firm  lit 
tle  hand  and  held  it  for  a  moment  between 
both  his  own. 

"Good-by,  Minnetaki,"  he  whispered. 

He  turned  and  took  his  position  in  the  mid 
dle  of  the  canoe,  and  with  a  last  shout  Wabi 
shoved  off  and  the  canoe  sped  out  into  the 
gloom. 


92  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

For  a  long  time  there  was  silence,  except  fot 
the  rhythmic  dip  of  the  three  paddies.  Once 
Minnetaki's  voice  came  to  them  faintly,  and 
they  answered  it  with  a  shout.  But  that  was 
all.  After  a  time  Rod  said, 

"By  George,  this  saying  good-by  is  the 
toughest  part  of  the  whole  business!" 

His  words  cleared  away  the  feeling  of  op 
pression  that  seemed  to  have  fallen  on  them. 

"It's  always  hard  for  me  to  leave  Minne- 
taki,"  replied  Wabigoon.  "Some  day  I'm  go 
ing  to  take  her  on  a  trip  with  me." 

"She'd  be  a  bully  fellow!"  cried  Rod  with 
enthusiasm. 

From  the  stern  of  the  canoe  came  a  de 
lighted  chuckle  from  Mukoki. 

"She  brave — she  shoot,  she  hunt,  she  be 
dam'  fine !"  he  added,  and  both  Rod  and  Wabi 
burst  out  laughing.  The  young  Indian  looked 
at  his  compass  by  the  light  of  a  match. 

"We'll  strike  straight  across  Lake  Nipigon 
instead  of  following  the  shore.  What  do  you 
say,  Muky?"  he  called  back. 

The  old  pathfinder  was  silent.   In  surprise 


ON   THE   TRAIL   OF   GOLD          93 

Wabi  ceased  paddling,  and  repeated  his  ques 
tion. 

"Don't  you  think  it  is  safe?" 

Mukoki  wet  his  hand  over  the  side  and  held 
it  above  his  head. 

"Wind  in  south,"  he  said.  "Maybe  no  get 
stronger,  but — " 

"If  she  did,"  added  Rod  dubiously,  noting 
how  heavily  laden  the  canoe  was,  "we'd  be  in 
a  iix,  as  sure  as  you  live !" 

"It  will  take  us  all  of  to-day  and  half  of  to« 
morrow  to  follow  the  shore,"  urged  Wabi, 
"while  by  cutting  straight  across  the  lake  we 
can  make  the  other  side  early  this  afternoon. 
JLet'sriskit!" 

Mukoki  grunted  something  that  was  a  little 
less  than  approval,  and  Rod  felt  a  peculiar 
sensation  shoot  through  him  as  the  frail  birch 
headed  out  into  the  big  lake.  Their  steady 
strokes  sent  the  canoe  through  the  water  at 
fully  four  miles  an  hour,  and  by  the  time 
broad  day  had  come  the  forest-clad  shore  at 
Wabinosh  House  was  only  a  hazy  outline  in 
the  distance.  The  white  youth's  unspoken 


94  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

fears  were  dispelled  when  the  sun  rose,  warm 
and  glorious,  over  the  shimmering  lake,  driv 
ing  the  chill  from  the  air,  and  seeming  to 
bring  with  it  the  sweet  scents  of  the  forests  far 
away.  Joyfully  he  labored  at  his  paddle,  the 
mere  exhilaration  of  the  morning  filling  his 
arms  with  the  strength  of  a  young  giant.  Wabi 
whistled  and  sang  wild  snatches  of  Indian 
song  by  turns,  Rod  joined  him  with  Yankee 
Doodle  and  The  Star  Spangled  Banner,  and 
even  the  silent  Mukoki  gave  a  whoop  now  and 
then  to  show  that  he  was  as  happy  as  they. 

One  thought  filled  the  minds  of  all.  They 
were  fairly  started  on  that  most  thrilling  of 
all  trails,  the  trail  of  gold.  In  their  possession 
was  the  secret  of  a  great  fortune.  Romance, 
adventure,  discovery,  awaited  them.  The  big, 
silent  North,  mysterious  in  its  age-old  desola 
tion,  where  even  the  winds  seemed  to  whisper 
of  strange  things  that  had  happened  countless 
years  before,  was  just  ahead  of  them.  They 
were  about  to  bury  themselves  in  its  secrets, 
to  wrest  from  it  the  yellow  treasure  it  guarded, 
and  their  blood  tingled  and  leaped  excitedly 


ON    THE   TRAIL   OF   GOLD          95 

at  the  thought.  What  would  be  revealed  to 
them?  What  might  they  not  discover?  What 
strange  adventures  were  they  destined  to  en 
counter  in  that  Unknown  World,  peopled  only 
by  the  things  of  the  wild,  that  stretched  track 
less  and  unexplored  before  them?  A  hundred 
thoughts  like  these  fired  the  brains  of  the 
three  adventurers,  and  made  their  work  a  play, 
and  every  breath  they  drew  one  of  joy. 

The  lake  was  alive  with  ducks.  Huge  flocks 
of  big  black  ducks,  mallards,  blue  bills  and 
whistlers  rose  about  them,  and  now  and  then, 
when  an  unusually  large  flock  was  seen  float 
ing  upon  the  water  ahead  of  them,  one  of  the 
three  would  take  a  pot-shot  with  his  rifle.  Rod 
and  Mukoki  had  each  killed  two,  and  Wabi 
three,  when  the  old  warrior  stopped  the  fun. 

"No  waste  too  much  shooting  on  ducks,"  he 
advised.  "Need  shells — big  game." 

Several  times  during  the  morning  the  three 
rested  from  their  exertions,  and  at  noon  they 
ceased  paddling  for  more  than  an  hour  while 
they  ate  the  generous  dinner  that  had  been  put 
up  for  them  at  Wabinosh  House.  The  farther 


96  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

side  of  the  lake  was  now  plainly  visible,  and 
when  the  journey  was  resumed  all  eyes  eagerly 
sought  for  signs  of  the  mouth  of  the  Om- 
babika,  where  their  stirring  adventures  of  the 
winter  before  had  begun.  For  some  time 
Wabi's  gaze  had  been  fixed  upon  a  long,  white 
rim  along  the  shore,  to  which  he  now  called 
his  companions'  attention. 

"It  seems  to  be  moving,"  he  said,  turning  to 
Mukoki.  "Is  it  possible — "  He  paused  doubt 
fully. 

"What?"  questioned  Rod. 

"That  it's  swans !"  he  completed. 

"Swans!"  'cried  the  young  hunter.  "Great 
Scott,  do  you  mean  to  say  there  could  be 
enough  swans — " 

*They  sometimes  cover  the  lake  in  thou 
sands,"  said  Wabi.  "I  have  seen  them  whiten 
ing  the  water  as  far  as  one  could  see." 

"More  swan  as  you  count  in  twent'  t'ous'nd 
year!"  affirmed  Mukoki.  After  a  few  mo 
ments  he  added,  "Them  no  swan.  Ice!" 

There  was  an  unpleasant  ring  in  his  voice 
as  he  spoke  the  last  word,  and  though  Rod  did 


ON   THE   TRAIL   OF   GOLD          97 

not  fully  understand  what  significance  the  dis 
covery  held  for  them  he  could  not  but  observe 
that  it  occasioned  both  of  his  comrades  con 
siderable  anxiety.  The  cause  was  not  long  in 
doubt.  Another  half  hour  of  brisk  paddling 
brought  them  to  the  edge  of  a  frozen  field  of 
ice  that  extended  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
the  shore.  In  both  directions  it  stretched  be 
yond  their  vision.  Wabi's  face  was  filled  with 
dismay.  Mukoki  sat  with  his  paddle  across 
his  knees,  uttering  not  a  sound. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  Rod.  "Can't  we 
make  it?" 

"Make  it!"  exclaimed  Wabigoon.  "Yes — 
perhaps  to-morrow,  or  the  next  day!" 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  we  can't  get  over  that 
ice?" 

"That's  just  exactly  the  predicament  we  are 
in.  The  edge  of  that  ice  is  rotten." 

The  canoe  had  drifted  alongside  the  ice, 
and  Rod  began  pounding  it  with  his  paddle. 
For  a  distance  of  two  feet  it  broke  off  in 
chunks,  then  became  more  firm. 

"I  believe  that  if  we  cut  our  way  in  for  a, 


98  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

canoe  length  or  so  it  would  hold  us,"  he  de 
clared. 

Wabi  reached  for  an  ax. 

"We'll  try  it!" 

Mukoki  shook  his  head. 

But  for  a  second  time  that  day  Wabigoon, 
persisted  in  acting  against  the  old  pathfinder's 
judgment,  something  that  Rod  had  never 
known  him  to  be  guilty  of  before.  Foot  by 
foot  he  broke  the  ice  ahead  of  the  canoe,  until 
the  frail  craft  had  thrust  its  length  into  the 
rotten  field.  Then,  steadying  himself  on  the 
bow,  he  stepped  out  cautiously  upon  the  ice. 

"There!"  he  cried  triumphantly.  "You 
next,  Rod!  Steady!" 

In  a  moment  Rod  had  joined  him.  What 
happened  after  that  seemed  to  pass  like  a  ter 
rible  nightmare.  First  there  came  a  light 
cracking  in  the  ice  under  their  feet,  but  it  was 
over  in  an  instant.  Wabi  was  laughing  at  him 
for  the  fear  that  had  come  into  his  face,  and 
calling  his  name,  when  with  a  thunderous 
crash  the  whole  mass  gave  way  under  them, 
and  they  plunged  down  into  the  black  depths 


ON    THE   TRAIL   OF   GOLD  99 

of  the  lake.  The  last  that  Rod  saw  was  his 
friend's  horror-stricken  face  sinking  in  the 
crumbling  ice;  he  heard  a  sharp,  terrible  cry 
from  Mukoki,  and  then  he  knew  that  the  cold 
waters  had  engulfed  him,  and  that  he  was  bat 
tling  for  his  life  under  the  surface. 

Fiercely  he  struck  out  with  arms  and  legs 
in  an  effort  to  rise,  and  in  that  moment  of  ter 
ror  he  thought  of  the  great  sheet  of  ice.  What 
if  he  should  come  up  under  it?  In  which  di 
rection  should  he  strike  out?  He  opened  his 
eyes  but  all  was  a  black  chaos  about  him.  The 
seconds  seemed  like  ages.  There  came  a  split 
ting,  rending  sensation  in  his  head,  an  almost 
overpowering  desire  to  open  his  mouth,  to 
gasp,  gasp  for  air  where  there  was  nothing  but 
death!  Then  his  head  struck  something.  It 
was  the  ice!  He  had  come  up  under  the  ice, 
and  there  was  but  one  end  to  that! 

He  began  to  sink  again,  slowly,  as  if  an  in 
visible  hand  were  pulling  him  down,  and  in 
his  despair  he  made  a  last  frantic  effort,  strik 
ing  out  blindly,  knowing  that  in  another  sec 
ond  he  must  open  his  mouth.  Even  under  the 


ioo  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

water  he  still  had  consciousness  enough  left 
to  know  that  he  tried  to  cry  out,  and  he  felt  the 
first  gurgling  rush  of  water  into  his  lungs. 
But  he  did  not  see  the  long  arm  that  reached 
down  where  the  bubbles  were  coming  up,  he 
did  not  feel  the  grip  that  dragged  him  out 
upon  the  ice.  His  first  sense  of  life  was  that 
something  very  heavy  was  upon  his  stomach, 
and  that  he  was  being  rubbed,  and  pummeled, 
and  rolled  about  as  if  he  had  become  the  play 
thing  of  a  great  bear.  Then  he  saw  Mukoki, 
and  then  Wabigoon. 

"You  go  build  fire,"  he  heard  Mukoki  say, 
and  he  could  hear  Wabi  running  swiftly 
shoreward.  For  he  knew  that  they  were  still 
upon  the  ice.  The  canoe  was  drawn  safely  up 
a  dozen  feet  away,  and  the  old  Indian  was 
dragging  blankets  from  it.  When  Mukoki 
turned  he  found  Rod  resting  upon  his  elbow, 
looking  at  him. 

"That — w'at  you  call  heem — close  shave!" 
he  grinned,  placing  a  supporting  arm  under 
Rod's  shoulder. 

With  Mukoki's  assistance  the  youth  rose  to 


ON   THE   TRAIL   OF   GOLD         101 

his  feet,  and  a  thick  blanket  was  wrapped 
about  him.  Slowly  they  made  their  way  shore 
ward,  and  soon  Wabi  came  running  out  to 
meet  them,  dripping  wet. 

"Rod,  when  we  get  thawed  out,  I  want  you 
to  kick  me,"  he  pleaded.  "I  want  you  to  kick 
me  good  and  hard,  and  then  I'll  take  great 
pleasure  in  kicking  you.  And  ever  after  this, 
when  we  do  a  thing  that  Mukoki  tells  us  not 
to  do,  we'll  kick  some  more!" 

"Who  pulled  us  out?"  asked  Rod. 

"Mukoki,,  of  course.  Will  you  kick  me?" 

"Shake!" 

And  the  two  dripping,  half-frozen  young 
adventurers  shook  hands,  while  Mukoki 
chuckled  and  grunted  and  gurgled  until  he 
set  the  others  bursting  into  laughter. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  YELLOW  BULLET 

BEFORE  a  rousing  fire  of  logs  Rod  and 
Wabigoon  began  to  see  the  cheerful 
side  of  life  again,  and  as  soon  as  Mu- 
koki  had  built  them  a  balsam  shelter  they 
stripped  off  their  clothes  and  wrapped  them 
selves  in  blankets,  while  the  old  Indian  dried 
their  outfits.  It  was  two  hours  before  they 
were  dressed.  No  sooner  were  they  out  than 
Wabi  went  into  the  bush  and  returned  a  few 
minutes  later  brandishing  a  good-sized  birch 
JR  his  hand.  There  was  no  sign  of  humor  in 
his  face  as  he  eyed  Rod. 

"Do  you  see  that  log?"  he  said,  pointing  to 
the  big  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree  near  the  fire 
"That  will  just  fit  your  stomach,  Rod.  It  will 
be  better  than  kicking.   Double  yourself  over 
that,  face  down,  pantaloons  up.  I'm  going  to 

102 


THE   YELLOW   BULLET  103 

lick  you  first  because  I  want  you  to  know  just 
how  much  to  give  me.  I  want  it  twice  as  hard, 
for  I  was  more  to  blame  than  you." 

In  some  astonishment  Rod  doubled  himself 
over  the  log. 

"Great  Scott!"  he  ejaculated,  peering  up  in 
dismay.  "Not  too  hard,  Wabi!" 

Swish!  fell  the  birch,  and  a  yell  of  pain 
burst  from  the  white  youth's  lips. 

Swish ! — Swish ! — Swish ! 

"Ouch!  Great  Caesar — Let  up!" 

"Don't  move!"  shouted  Wabi.  "Take  it 
like  a  man — you  deserve  it!" 

Again  and  again  the  birch  fell.  Rod 
groaned  as  he  rose  to  his  feet  after  Wabi  had 
stopped.  "Oh,  please — please  give  me  that 
whip!" 

"Not  too  hard,  you  know,"  warned  Wabi, 
as  he  fitted  himself  over  the  log. 

"You  chose  your  own  poison,"  reminded 
IfRod,  rolling  up  his  sleeve.    "Just  twice  as 
hard,  no  more!" 

And  the  birch  began  to  fall. 

it  was  over  Rod's  arm  ached,  and 


104  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

Wabi,  despite  his  Indian  stoicism,  let  out  a 
long  howl  at  the  last  blow. 

During  the  entire  scene  of  chastisement 
Mukoki  stood  like  one  struck  dumb. 

"We'll  never  be  bad  any  more,  Muky," 
promised  Wabigoon,  rubbing  himself  gently. 
"That  is,  if  we  are,  we'll  whip  ourselves  againy 
eh,  Rod?" 

"Not  so  long  as  I  can  run!"  assured  Rod 
with  emphasis.  "I'm  willing  to  lend  a  helping 
hand  at  any  time  you  think  you  deserve  an*, 
other,  but  beyond  that  please  count  me  out!" 

For  an  hour  after  the  self-punishment  of 
the  young  gold  hunters  the  three  gathered  fuel 
for  the  night  and  balsam  boughs  for  their 
beds.  It  was  dark  by  the  time  they  sat  down  to 
their  supper,  which  they  ate  in  the  light  of  a 
huge  fire  of  dry  poplar. 

"This  is  better  than  paddling  all  night,  even 
if  we  did  have  a  close  shave,"  said  Rod,  after 
they  had  finished  and  settled  themselves  com 
fortably. 

Wabi  gave  a  grimace  and  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 


THE  YELLOW   BULLET  105 

"Do  you  know  how  close  your  call  was?"  he 
asked.  "It  was  so  close  that  just  by  one  chance 
in  ten  thousand  you  were  saved.  I  had  pulled 
myself  upon  the  ice  by  catching  hold  of  the 
bow  of  the  canoe  and  when  Muky  saw  that  I 
was  safe  he  watched  for  you.  But  you  didn't 
show  up.  We  had  given  you  up  for  dead  whei 
a  few  bubbles  came  to  the  surface,  and  quicker 
than  a  wink  Mukoki  thrust  down  his  arm.  Ke 
got  you  by  the  hair  as  you  were  sinking  for  the 
last  time.  Think  of  that,  Rod,  and  dream  of  it 
to-night.  It'll  do  you  good." 

"Ugh !"  shuddered  the  white  youth.  "Let's 
talk  of  something  more  cheerful.  What  a 
glorious  fire  that  poplar  makes!" 

"Mak'  light  more  as  twent'  t'ous'nd  can 
dles!"  agreed  Mukoki.  "Heem  bright!" 

"Once  upon  a  time,  many  ages  ago,  there 
was  a  great  chief  in  this  country,"  began 
Wabigoon,  "and  he  had  seven  beautiful 
daughters.  So  beautiful  were  they  that  the 
Great  Spirit  himself  fell  in  love  with  them, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  countless  moons  he 
appeared  upon  earth,  and  told  the  chief  that  if 


io6  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

he  would  give  him  his  seven  daughters  he,  in 
turn,  would  grant  the  father  seven  great 
desires.  And  the  chief,  surrendering  his 
daughters,  asked  that  he  might  be  given  a  day 
without  night,  and  a  night  without  day,  and 
his  wish  was  granted;  and  his  third  and  fourth 
and  fifth  desires  were  that  the  land  might  al 
ways  be  filled  with  fish  and  game,  the  forests 
remain  for  ever  green,  and  fire  be  given  to  his 
people.  His  sixth  desire  was  that  a  fuel  be 
given  to  him  which  would  burn  even  in  water, 
and  the  Great  Spirit  gave  him  birch;  and  his 
seventh  desire  was  that  he  might  possess  an 
other  fuel,  which  would  throw  off  no  smoke, 
and  might  bring  comfort  and  joy  to  his  wig 
wams — and  the  poplar  sprang  up  in  the  for 
ests.  And  because  of  that  chief,  and  his  seven 
beautiful  daughters,  all  of  these  things  are  true 
even  to  this  day.  Isn't  it  so,  Mukoki?" 

The  old  warrior  nodded. 

"And  what  became  of  the  Great  Spirit  and 
the  seven  beautiful  daughters?"  questioned 
Rod. 

Mukoki  rose  and  left  the  fire. 


THE   YELLOW   BULLET  107 

"He  believes  in  that  as  he  believes  in  the 
<mn  and  the  moon,"  spoke  Wabi  softly.  "But 
he  knows  that  you  do  not,  and  that  all  white 
people  laugh  at  it.  He  could  tell  you  many 
wonderful  stories  of  the  creation  of  these  for 
ests  and  mountains  and  the  things  in  them  if 
he  would.  But  he  knows  that  you  would  not 
believe,  and  would  laugh  at  him  afterward/' 

In  an  instant  Rod  was  upon  his  feet. 

"Mukoki!"  he  called.  "Mukoki!" 

The  old  Indian  turned  and  came  back 
slowly.  The  white  youth  met  him  half-way, 
his  face  flushed,  his  eyes  shining. 

"Mukoki,"  he  said  gently,  gripping  the 
warrior's  hand,  "Mukoki — I  love  your  Great 
Spirit!  I  love  the  one  who  made  these  glori 
ous  forests,  and  that  glorious  moon  up  there, 
and  the  mountains  and  lakes  and  rivers!  I 
want  to  know  more  about  him.  You  must  tell 
me,  so  that  I  will  know  when  he  talks  about 
me,  in  the  winds,  in  the  stars,  in  the  forests! 
Will  you?" 

Mukoki  was  looking  at  him,  his  thin  lips 
parted,  his  grim  visage  relaxed,  as  if  he  were 


io8  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

weighing  the  truthfulness  of  the  white  youth's 
words. 

"And  I  will  tell  you  about  our  Great  Spirit, 
the  white  man's  Great  Spirit,"  urged  Rod. 
"For  we  have  a  Great  Spirit,  too,  Mukoki, 
and  He  did  for  the  white  man's  world  what 
yours  did  for  you.  He  created  the  earth,  the 
sky  and  the  sea  and  all  the  things  in  them  in 
six  days,  and  on  the  seventh  He  rested.  And 
that  seventh  day  we  call  Sunday,  Mukoki. 
And  He  made  our  forests  for  us,  as  your  Great 
Spirit  made  them  for  you,  only  instead  of  giv 
ing  them  for  the  love  of  seven  beautiful  wom 
en  He  gave  them  for  the  love  of  man.  I'll  tell 
you  wonderful  things  about  Him,  Mukoki,  if 
you  will  tell  me  about  yours.  Is  it  a  bar 
gain?" 

"Mebby — yes,"  replied  the  old  pathfindei 
.slowly.  His  face  had  softened,  and  for  the 
second  time  Rod  knew  that  he  had  touched 
the  heartstrings  of  his  red  comrade.  They  re- 
( turned  to  the  fire,  and  Wabi  made  room  for 
them  upon  the  log  beside  him.  In  his  hand 
he  held  a  copy  of  the  old  birch-bark  map. 


THE   YELLOW   BULLET  109 

"I've  been  thinking  about  this  all  day,"  he 
said,  spreading  it  out  so  that  the  others  could 
see.  "Somehow  I  haven't  been  able  to  get  the 
idea  out  of  my  head  that — " 

"What?"  asked  Rod. 

"Oh,,  nothing,"  hastily  added  Wabi,  as  if  he 
regretted  what  he  had  said.  "It's  a  mighty 
curious  map,  isn't  it?  I  wonder  if  we'll  ever 
know  its  whole  story." 

"I  believe  we  know  it  now,"  declared  Rod. 
"In  the  first  place,  we  found  it  clutched  by 
one  of  the  skeletons,  and  we  know  from  the 
knife  wounds  in  those  skeletons,  and  the 
weapons  near  them,  that  the  two  men  fought 
and  killed  themselves.  They  fought  for  this 
map,  for  the  precious  secret  which  each 
wished  to  possess  alone.  Now — " 

He  took  the  map  from  Wabi's  fingers  and 
held  it  up  between  them  and  the  fire. 

"Isn't  the  rest  of  it  clear?" 

For  a  few  moments  the  three  looked  at  it  in 
silence. 

From  the  faded  outlines  of  the  original  it 
had  been  drawn  with  painstaking  accuracy. 


no  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

With  a  splinter  Rod  pointed  to  the  top  of  the 
map,  where  were  written  the  words,  "Cabin 
and  head  of  chasm." 

"Could  anything  be  clearer?"  he  repeated. 
"Here  is  the  cabin  in  which  the  men  killed 
themselves,  and  where  we  found  their  skele 
tons,  and  here  they  have  marked  the  chasm  in 
which  I  shot  the  silver  fox,  and  down  which 
we  must  go  to  find  the  gold.  According  to  this 
we  must  go  until  we  come  to  the  third  water 
fall,  and  there  we  will  find  another  cabin — 
and  the  gold." 

"It  all  seems  very  simple — by  the  map," 
agreed  Wabi. 

Under  the  crude  diagram  were  a  number  of 
lines  in  writing.  They  were : 

"We,  John  Ball,  Henri  Langlois,  and  Peter 
Plante,  having  discovered  gold  at  this  fall,  do 
hereby  agree  to  joint  partnership  in  the  same, 
and  do  pledge  ourselves  to  forget  our  past  dif 
ferences  and  work  in  mutual  good  will  and 
honesty,  so  help  us  God.  Signed, 

"JOHN  BALL,     HENRI  LANGLOIS, 
PETER  PLANTE." 


THE  YELLOW   BULLET  in 

Through  the  name  of  John  Ball  had  been 
drawn  a  broad  black  line  which  had  almost 
destroyed  the  letters,  and  at  the  end  of  this 
line,  in  brackets,  was  printed  a  word  in 
French,  which  for  the  hundredth  time  Wabi; 
translated  aloud: 

"Deadl" 

"From  the  handwriting  of  the  original  we 
know  that  Ball  was  a  man  of  some  education," 
continued  Rod.  "And  there  is  no  doubt  but 
that  the  birch-bark  sketch  was  made  by  him. 
All  of  the  writing  was  in  one  hand,  with  the 
exception  of  the  signatures  of  Langlois  and 
Plante,  and  you  could  hardly  decipher  the 
letters  in  those  signatures  if  you  did  not  al 
ready  know  their  names.  From  these  lines 
it  is  quite  certain  that  we  were  right  at  the 
cabin  when  we  concluded  that  the  two  French 
men  killed  the  Englishman  to  get  him  out  of 
the  partnership.  Isn't  that  story  clear 
enough?" 

"Yes,  as  far  as  you  have  gone,"  replied 
Wabi.  "These  three  men  discovered  gold, 
quarreled,  signed  this  agreement,  and  then 


112  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

Ball  was  murdered.  The  two  Frenchmen,  as 
Mukoki  suggested  at  the  cabin,  came  out  a 
little  later  for  supplies,  and  brought  the  buck 
skin  bag  full  of  gold  with  them.  They  had 
come  as  far  as  the  cabin  at  the  head  of  the 
chasm  when  they  quarreled  over  possession 
of  the  map  and  agreement,  fought,  and  died. 
From  the  old  guns  and  other  evidences  we 
found  near  them  we  know  that  all  this  hap 
pened  at  least  fifty  years  ago,  and  perhaps 
more.  But— 

He  paused,  whistling  softly. 

"Where  is  the  third  waterfall?" 

"I  thought  we  settled  that  last  winter,"  re* 
plied  Rod,  a  little  irritated  by  his  companion's 
doubt.  "If  writing  goes  for  anything,  Ball 
was  a  man  of  education,  and  he  drew  the  map 
according  to  some  sort  of  scale.  The  second 
fall  is  only  half  as  far  from  the  first  fall  as 
the  third  fall  is  from  the  second,  which  is  con 
clusive  evidence  of  this.  Now  Mukoki  dis 
covered  the  first  waterfall  fifty  miles  down  the 
chasm !" 

"And  we  figured  from  the  distances  be- 


THE   YELLOW   BULLET  113 

tween  John  Ball's  marks  on  the  birch,  that 
the  third  fall  was  about  two  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  from  our  old  camp  at  the  head  of 
;the  chasm,"  rejoined  Wabigoon.  "It  looks 
Reasonable." 

"It  is  reasonable,"  declared  Rod,  his  face 
flushed  with  excitement.  "From  the  head  of 
the  chasm  our  trail  is  as  plain  as  day.  We 
can't  miss  itl" 

Mukoki  had  been  listening  in  silence,  and 
now  joined  in  the  conversation  for  the  first 
time. 

"Must  get  to  chasm  first,"  he  grunted,  giv 
ing  his  shoulders  a  hunch  that  suggested  a 
great  deal. 

Wabi  returned  the  map  to  his  pocket 

"You're  right,  Muky,"  he  laughed.  "We'r* 
climbing  mountains  before  we  come  to  them. 
It  will  be  tough  work  getting  to  the  chasm.* 

"Much  water — ver'  swift.  River  run  lak 
twent'  t'ous'nd  cari-bool" 

"I'll  bet  the  Ombabika  is  a  ragiag  torrent,* 
said  Rod. 

"And  we've  got  forty  miles  of  it,  all 


Ii4  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

stream,"  replied  Wabi.  "Then  we  come  to 
the  Height  of  Land.  After  that  the  streams 
run  northward,  to  Hudson  Bay,  and  when  we 
reach  them  we'll  hold  our  breath  and  pray 
instead  of  paddling.  Oh,  it  will  be  exciting 
fun  rushing  down-stream  on  the  floods !" 

"But  there  is  work  before  us  to-morrow — 
hard  work,"  said  Rod.  "And  I'm  going  to 
bed.  Goodnight!" 

Mukoki  and  Wabigoon  soon  followed  their 
companion's  example,  and  half  an  hour  later 
( nothing  but  the  crackling  of  the  fire  dis 
turbed  the  stillness  of  the  camp.  Mukoki 
was  as  regular  as  clockwork  in  his  rising,  and 
an  hour  before  dawn  he  was  up  and  preparing 
breakfast.  When  his  young  comrades  aroused 
themselves  they  found  the  ducks  they  had  shot 
the  preceding  day  roasting  on  spits  over  the 
fire,  and  coffee  nearly  ready.  Rod  also  no 
ticed  that  a  part  of  the  contents  of  (he  canoe 
were  missing. 

"Took  load  up  to  river,"  explained  Mu 
koki  in  response  to  the  youth's  questioning. 

"Working  while  we  sleep,  as  usual,"  ex- 


THE   YELLOW   BULLET  115 

claimed  the  disgusted  Wabigoon.  "If  it  keep! 
on  we'll  deserve  another  whipping,  Rod!" 

Mukoki  examined  a  fat  bluebill,  roasted  to 
a  rich  brown,  and  gave  it  to  Rod.  Another 
he  handed  to  Wabigoon,  and  with  a  third  in 
his  own  hands  he  found  a  seat  for  himself 
upon  the  ground  close  to  the  coffee  and  bread. 

"Ah,  if  this  isn't  fit  for  a  king!"  cried  Rod, 
poising  his  savory  bluebill  on  the  end  of  a 
fork. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  three  went  to  their 
canoe.  Mukoki  had  already  packed  a  half 
of  its  contents  to  the  river,  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away,  and  he  now  loaded  himself  with  the 
remainder  while  the  two  boys  hoisted  the  light 
birch  upon  their  shoulders.  As  Roderick 
caught  his  first  glimpse  of  the  Ombabika  in 
the  growing  light  of  day  he  gave  a  cry  of 
astonishment.  When  he  had  gone  up  the 
stream  the  preceding  winter  it  was  scarce 
more  than  a  dozen  gun  lengths  in  width.  Now 
it  was  a  veritable  Amazon,  its  black,  ugly 
waters  rolling  and  twisting  like  the  slow  boil 
ing  of  a  thick  liquid  over  a  fire.  There  was 


Ii6  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

little  rush  about  it,  no  frenzied  haste,  ua 
mountain-like  madness  in  the  advance-  of  the 
torrent.  Rod  had  expected  to  see  this,  and 
he  would  not  have  been  startled  by  it. 

But  there  was  something  vastly  more  ap-> 
palling  in  the  flood  that  rolled  slowly  before 
his  eyes,  with  its  lazily  twisting  whirlpools, 
its  thousand  unseen  currents,  rolling  the  water 
here  and  there — always  in  different  places — 
like  the  gurgling  eruptions  he  had  often  ob 
served  in  a  pot  of  simmering  oatmeal.  There 
was  something  uncanny  about  it,  something 
terribly  suggestive  of  giant  hands  under  the 
surface,  waiting  to  pull  them  down.  He 
knew,  without  questioning,  that  there  was 
more  deadly  power  in  that  creeping  flood  than 
in  a  dozen  boisterous  torrents  thundering 
down  from  the  mountains.  In  it  were  the 
cumulative  waters  of  a  score  of  those  torrents, 
and  in  its  broad,  deep  sweep  into  the  big  lake 
the  currents  and  perils  of  each  were  combined 
into  one  great  threatening  force. 

The  thoughts  that  were  in  Rod's  mind  be 
trayed  themselves  as  he  looked  at  his  com- 


THE    YELLOW   BULLET  117 

panions.  Mukoki  was  reloading  the  canoe,. 
Wabi  watched  the  flood. 

"She's  running  pretty  strong,"  said  the  In 
dian  youth  dubiously.  "What  do  you  think 
'of  it,  Muky?" 

"Keep  close  to  shore,"  replied  the  old  war 
rior,  without  stopping  his  work.  "We  mak' 
heem — safe!" 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  consolation  in 
Mukoki's  words,  for  both  youths  still  bore 
smarting  reminders  of  his  caution  and  good 
judgment.  In  a  short  time  the  canoe  was 
safely  launched  where  a  small  eddy  had 
worked  into  the  shore,  and  the  three  adventur 
ers  dug  in  their  paddles.  Mukoki,  who  held 
the  important  position  in  the  stern,  kept  the 
bow  of  the  birch  within  half  a  dozen  yards 
of  the  bank,  and  to  Rod's  mind  they  slipped 
up-stream  with  amazing  speed  and  ease.  Now 
and  then  one  of  the  upheavings  of  the  currents 
would  catch  the  canoe,  and  from  the  way  in 
which  it  was  pitched  either  to  one  side  or  the 
other  Rod  easily  imagined  what  perils  the 
middle  of  the  stream  would  have  held  fo* 


Ii8  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

them.  Quick  action  on  the  part  of  Mukoki 
and  Wabigoon  was  always  necessary  to  coun 
teract  the  effect  of  these  upheavals,  and  in  the 
bow  Wabi  was  constantly  on  the  alert.  At  no 
time  could  they  tell  when  to  expect  the  attacks 
of  the  unseen  forces  below.  Ten  feet  ahead 
the  water  might  be  running  as  smooth  as  oil, 
then — a  single  huge  bubble,  as  if  a  great  fish 
had  sent  up  a  gasp  of  air — and  in  an  instant  it 
would  be  boiling  like  a  small  maelstrom. 

Rod  noticed  that  each  time  they  were 
caught  near  one  of  these  some  unseen  power 
seemed  sucking  them  down,  and  that  at  those 
times  the  canoe  would  settle  several  inches 
deeper  than  when  they  were  in  calm  water. 
The  discovery  thrilled  him,  and  he  wondered 
what  one  of  the  big  eruptions  out  in  mid 
stream  would  do  to  them  if  they  were  caught 
in  it.  Other  perils  were  constantly  near  them. 
Floating  logs  and  masses  of  brush  and  othei 
debris  swept  down  with  the  flood,  and  Wabi's 
warning  cries  of  "right,"  "left,"  and  "back" 
came  with  such  frequency  that  Rod's  arms 
ached  with  the  mighty  efforts  which  he  made 


THE   YELLOW   BULLET  1 19 

with  his  paddle  in  response  to  them.  Again 
the  stream  would  boil  with  such  fury  ahead  of 
them  that  Mukoki  would  put  in  to  shore,  and 
a  portage  would  be  made  beyond  the  danger 
point.  Five  times  during  the  day  were  the 
canoe  and  its  contents  carried  in  this  manner, 
so  that  including  all  time  lost  an  average  of 
not  more  than  two  miles  an  hour  was  made. 
When  camp  was  struck  late  that  afternoon, 
however,  Mukoki  figured  that  they  had  cov 
ered  half  the  distance  up  the  Ombabika. 

The  following  day's  progress  was  even 
slower.  With  every  mile  the  stream  became 
narrower  and  swifter.  The  treacherous  up 
heavals  caused  by  undercurrents  no  longer 
harassed  the  gold  seekers,  but  logs  and  debris 
swept  down  with  greater  velocity.  Several 
times  the  frail  canoe  was  saved  from  destruc 
tion  only  by  the  quick  and  united  action  of 
the  three.  They  worked  now  like  a  well-reg< 
ulated  machine,  engineered  by  Wabigoon, 
whose  sharp  eyes  were  always  on  the  alert  for 
danger  ahead.  This  second  day  was  one  of 
thrills  and  tense  anxiety  for  Rod,  and  he  was 


120  THE  GOLD  HUNTERS 

glad  when  it  came  to  an  end.  It  was  early, 
and  the  sun  was  still  two  hours  high,  when 
they  stopped  to  camp. 

Mukoki  had  chosen  an  open  space,  backed 
by  a  poplar-covered  rocky  ridge,  and  scarce 
bad  the  bow  of  the  canoe  touched  shore  when 
Wabi  gave  an  excited  exclamation,  caught  up 
his  rifle,  and  fired  three  rapid  shots  in  the  di 
rection  of  a  small  clump  of  spruce  near  the 
foot  of  the  mountain. 

"Missed,  by  all  that's  good  and  great!"  he 
yelled.  "Quick,  Mukoki,  shove  her  in! 
There's  the  biggest  bear  I've  seen  in  all  my 
life!" 

"Where?"  demanded  Rod.  "Where  is 
he?" 

He  dropped  his  paddle  and  snatched  his 
own  rifle,  while  Mukoki,  keeping  his  self- 
possession,  brought  the  canoe  so  that  Wabi 
could  leap  ashore.  Rod  followed  like  a  flash, 
and  the  two  excited  youths  sped  in  the  direc 
tion  of  the  bear,  leaving  their  companion  to 
care  for  himself  and  the  heavily-laden  birch. 
A  short,  swift  run  brought  them  to  the  edge 


THE   YELLOW   BULLET  121 

of  the  spruce,  and  with  hearts  beating  wildly 
the  two  scanned  the  barren  side  of  the  moun 
tain  ahead  of  them.  There  was  no  sign  of  the 
bear. 

"He  turned  down-stream!"  cried  Wabi, 
"We  must  cut — " 

"There  he  is,"  whispered  Rod  sharply. 

Just  beginning  the  ascent  of  the  mountain, 
four  or  five  hundred  yards  below  them,  was 
the  bear.  Even  at  that  distance  Rod  was 
amazed  at  the  size  of  the  beast. 

"What  a  monster!"  he  gasped. 

"Blaze  away!"  urged  Wabi.  "It's  four 
hundred  yards  if  it's  a  foot!  Aim  for  the  top 
of  his  back  and  you'll  bring  him!" 

Suiting  action  to  his  words  he  fired  the  two 
remaining  shots  in  his  rifle,  and  as  he  slipped 
in  fresh  cartridges  Rod  continued  the  long- 
rang^  fusillade.  His  first  and  second  shots 
produced  no  effect.  At  his  third  the  running 
animal  paused  for  a  moment  and  looked 
down  at  them,  and  the  young  hunter  seized 
his  opportunity  to  take  a  careful  aim.  At  the 
report  of  his  gun  the  bear  gave  a  quick  lunge 


122  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

forward,  half-fell  among  the  rocks,  and  then 
was  off  again. 

"You  hit  himl"  shouted  Wabi,  setting  off 
on  a  dead  run  between  the  spruce  and  the 
mountain. 

For  a  few  brief  moments  Rod  studied  the 
situation  as  he  reloaded.  The  bear  was  rap 
idly  nearing  the  summit  of  the  ridge.  By 
swift  running  Wabigoon  would  have  another 
fair  shot  before  the  animal  got  out  of  range. 
If  that  shot  were  a  miss  they  would  lose  their 
game.  In  a  flash  he  discerned  a  break  in 
the  mountain.  If  he  could  make  that,  and  the 
bear  turned  in  his  direction — 

Without  further  thought  he  ran  toward  the 
break.  He  heard  the  sharp  reports  of  Wabi's 
rifle  behind  him,  but  didn't  stop  to  see  the 
effect  of  the  fire.  If  it  was  another  miss — 
every  second  counted.  The  cut  in  the  moun 
tain  was  clear.  Breathlessly  he  dashed 
through  it  and  stopped  on  the  opposite  side, 
his  eyes  eagerly  scanning  the  rock-strewn 
ridge.  He  made  no  attempt  to  suppress  the 
exclamation  of  joy  tha-t  came  to  his  lips 


THE   YELLOW    BULLET  123 

fully  eight  hundred  yards  away,  he  discerned 
the  bear  coming  down  the  side  of  the  moun 
tain,  and  in  his  direction.  Crouching  behind 
a  huge  boulder  Rod  waited.  Seven  hundred 
yards,  six  hundred,  five  hundred,  and  the  bear 
turned,  this  time  striking  into  the  edge  of  the 
plain.  The  animal  was  traveling  slowly, 
partly  stopping  in  his  flight  now  and  then, 
and  Rod  knew  that  he  was  badly  wounded. 
It  was  soon  evident  that  the  course  being 
taken  by  the  game  would  bring  it  no  nearer, 
and  the  young  hunter  leveled  his  rifle. 

Five  hundred  yards,  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  mile! 

This  was  desperate  shooting,  shooting  that 
sent  a  strange  thrill  through  Roderick  Drew. 
The  magnificent  weapon  in  his  hands  was 
equal  to  the  task.  It  would  kill  easily  at  that 
distance.  But  would  he  fail?  He  was  confi 
dent  that  his  first  shot  went  high.  His  second 
had  no  effect.  To  his  third  there  came  the 
sharp  response  of  a  fourth  from  the  top  of  the 
mountain.  Wabigoon  had  reached  the  sum 
mit  and  was  firing  at  six  hundred  yards! 


124  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

The  bear  stopped.  With  deadly  precision 
Rod  now  took  aim  at  the  motionless  animal. 
An  instant  after  he  had  fired  a  wild  shout 
burst  from  his  throat,  and  was  answered  by 
Wabigoon's  joyful  yell  from  the  mountain. 
It  was  a  wonderful  shot,  and  the  bear  was 
down! 

The  animal  was  dead  when  the  triumphant 
young  hunters  reached  its  side.  It  was  some 
time  before  either  of  them  spoke.  Panting 
from  their  exertions,  both  looked  down  in 
silence  upon  the  huge  beast  at  their  feet.  That 
he  had  made  a  remarkable  kill  Rod  could  see 
by  the  look  of  wonder  in  his  companion's  face. 
They  were  still  mutely  regarding  the  dead 
animal  when  Mukoki  came  through  the  break 
in  the  ridge  and  hurried  toward  them.  His 
face,  too,  became  filled  with  amazement  when 
he  saw  the  bear. 

"Big  bear!"  he  exclaimed. 

There  was  a  world  of  meaning  in  his  words, 
and  Rod  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"He   weighs    five   hundred,"   said   Wabi, 


THE   YELLOW   BULLET  125 

"and  he  stands  four  feet  at  the  shoulders  if 
an  inch." 

"Fine  rug!"  grinned  Mukoki. 

"Let's  see,  Rod ;  he'll  make  a  rug — "  Wabi 
walked  critically  around  the  bear.  "He'll 
make  you  a  rug  over  eight  feet  long  by  about 
six  in  width.  I  wonder  where  he  is  hit?" 

A  brief  examination  showed  that  while  the 
honors  of  the  actual  kill  were  with  Rod,  at 
least  one,  and  perhaps  two,  of  Wabi's  shots 
had  taken  effect.  The  last  shot  from  the  white 
youth's  rifle  had  struck  the  bear  just  below 
the  right  ear,  causing  almost  instantaneous 
death.  On  this  same  side,  which  had  been  ex 
posed  to  Rod's  fire,  was  a  body  wound,  un 
doubtedly  made  by  the  shot  on  the  mountain 
side.  When  the  animal  was  rolled  over  by 
the  combined  efforts  of  the  three  two  more 
wounds  were  discovered  on  the  left  side, 
which  had  mostly  been  exposed  to  Wabigoon's 
fire.  It  was  while  examining  these  that  the 
sharp-eyed  Mukoki  gave  a  sudden  grunt  of 
surprise. 


126  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

"Heem  shot  before — long  time  ago!  Old 
wound — feel  bullet!" 

Between  his  fingers  he  was  working  the 
loose  hide  back  of  the  foreleg.  The  scar  of  an 
old  wound  was  plainly  visible,  and  both  Rod 
and  Wabi  could  feel  the  ball  under  the  skin. 
There  is  something  that  fascinates  the  big 
game  hunter  in  this  discovery  of  an  old  wound 
in  his  quarry,  and  especially  in  the  vast  soli 
tudes  of  the  North,  where  hunters  are  few  and 
widely  scattered.  It  brings  with  it  a  vivid 
picture  of  what  happened  long  ago,  the  ex 
citement  of  some  other  chase,  the  well-di 
rected  shot,  and  at  last  the  escape  of  the  game. 
And  so  it  was  now.  The  heads  of  Rod  and 
Wabigoon  hung  close  over  Mukoki's  shoul 
ders  while  the  old  Indian  dug  out  the  bullet 
with  his  knife.  Another  grunt  of  surprise 
fell  from  the  pathfinder's  lips  as  he  dropped 
the  pellet  in  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

It  was  a  strange-looking  object,  smooth, 
and  curiously  flattened. 

"Ver'  soft  bullet,"  said  Mukoki.  "Never 
know  lead  thin,  thin  out  lak  that!" 


THE   YELLOW   BULLET  127 

With  his  knife  he  peeled  off  a  thin  slice  of 
the  ball. 

"Heem— " 

He  held  up  the  two  pieces.  In  the  sun  they 
gleamed  a  dull,  rich  yellow. 

"That  bullet  made  of  gold!"  he  breathed, 
scarcely  above  a  whisper.  "No  yellow  lead. 
That  gold,  pure  gold!" 


CHAPTER  IX 

UP  THE  OMBABIKA 

FOR  a  few  moments  after  Mukoki's  re* 
markable  discovery  the  three  stood 
speechless.  Wabigoon  stared  as  if  he 
could  not  bring  himself  to  believe  the  evi 
dence  of  his  eyes.  Rod  was  quivering  with 
the  old,  thrilling  excitement  that  had  first 
come  to  him  in  the  cabin  where  they  had 
found  the  skeletons  and  the  buckskin  bag  with 
its  precious  nuggets,  and  Mukoki's  face  was  a 
study.  The  thin,  long  fingers  which  held  the 
two  pieces  of  the  gold  bullet  trembled,  which 
vvas  an  unusual  symptom  in  the  old  pathfinder. 
It  was  he  who  broke  the  silence,  and  his  words 
gave  utterance  to  the  question  which  had 
rushed  into  the  heads  of  the  two  young  hunt 
ers. 

"Who  shoot  gold  bullets  at  bear?" 
And  to  this  question  there  was,  for  the  time, 
128 


UP   THE   OMBABIKA  129 

absolutely  no  answer.  To  tell  who  shot  that 
bullet  was  impossible.  But  why  was  it  used? 

Wabigoon  had  taken  the  parts  of  the  yellow 
ball  and  was  weighing  them  in  the  palm  of  his 
hand. 

"It  weighs  an  ounce,"  he  declared. 

"Twenty  dollars'  worth  of  gold!"  gasped 
Rod,  as  if  he  lacked  breath  to  express  him 
self.  "Who  in  the  wide  world  is  shooting 
twenty  dollar  bullets  at  bear?"  he  cried  more 
excitedly,  repeating  Mukoki's  question  of  a 
minute  before. 

He,  too,  weighed  the  yellow  pellets  in  his 
hand. 

The  puzzled  look  had  gone  out  of  Muko 
ki's  face.  Again  the  battle-scarred  old  war 
rior  wore  the  stoic  mask  of  his  race,  which 
only  now  and  then  is  lifted  for  an  instant  by 
some  sudden  and  unexpected  happening. 
Behind  that  face,  immobile,  almost  expres 
sionless,  worked  a  mind  alive  to  every  trick 
and  secret  of  the  vast  solitudes,  and  even  be 
fore  his  young  comrades  had  gained  the  use 
of  their  tongues  he  was,  in  his  savage  imagina- 


I3o  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

tion,  traveling  swiftly  back  over  the  trail  of 
the  monster  bear  to  the  gun  that  had  fired  the 
golden  bullet.  Wabigoon  understood  him, 
and  watched  him  eagerly. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it,  Muky?" 

"Man  shoot  powder  and  ball  gun,  not  car 
tridge,"  replied  Mukoki  slowly.  "Old  gun. 
Strange;  ver'  strange!" 

"A  muzzle  loader!"  said  Wabi. 

The  Indian  nodded. 

"Had  powder,  no  lead.  Got  hungry;  used 
gold." 

Eight  words  had  told  the  story,  or  at  least 
enough  of  it  to  clear  away  a  part  of  the  cloud 
of  mystery,  but  the  other  part  still  remained. 

Who  had  fired  the  bullet,  and  where  had 
the  gold  come  from? 

"He  must  have  struck  it  rich,"  said  Wabi. 
"else  would  he  have  a  chunk  of  gold  like, 
that?" 

"Where  that  come  from — more,  much 
more,"  agreed  Mukoki  shortly. 

"Do  you  suppose — "  began  Rod.  There 
was  a  curious  thrill  in  his  voice,  and  he 


UP   THE   OMBABIKA  '131 

paused,  as  if  scarce  daring  to  venture  the  rest 
of  what  he  had  meant  to  say.  "Do  you  sup 
pose — somebody  has  found — our  gold?" 

Mukoki  and  Wabigoon  stared  at  him  as  if 
he  had  suddenly  exploded  a  mine.  Then 
Wabi  turned  and  looked  silently  at  the  old 
Indian.  Not  a  word  was  spoken.  Silently 
Rod  drew  something  from  his  pocket,  care 
fully  wrapped  in  a  bit  of  cloth. 

"You  remember  I  kept  this  little  nugget 
from  my  share  in  the  buckskin  bag,  intending 
to  have  a  scarf-pin  made  of  it,"  he  explained. 
"When  I  took  my  course  in  geology  and  min 
eralogy  I  learned  that,  if  one  had  half  a  dozen 
specimens  of  gold,  each  from  a  different  mine, 
the  chances  were  about  ten  to  one  that  no  two 
of  them  would  be  exactly  alike  in  coloring. 
Now—1' 

He  exposed  the  nugget,  and  made  a  fresh 
cut  in  it  with  his  knife,  as  Mukoki  had  done 
with  the  yellow  bullet.  Then  the  two  gleam 
ing  surfaces  were  compared. 

One  glance  was  sufficient. 

The  gold  was  the  same! 


132  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

Wabi  drew  back,  uttering  something  under 
his  breath,  his  eyes  gleaming  darkly.  Rod's 
face  had  suddenly  turned  a  shade  whiter,  and 
Mukoki,  not  understanding  the  mysteries  of 
mineralogy,  stared  at  the  youth  in  mute  sus 
pense. 

"Somebody  has  found  our  gold!"  cried 
Wabi,  almost  savagely. 

"We  are  not  sure,"  interrupted  Rod.  "We 
know  only  that  the  evidence  is  very  suspi 
cious.  The  rock  formation  throughout  this 
country  is  almost  identically  the  same,  deep 
trap  on  top,  with  slate  beneath,  and  for  that 
reason  it  is  very  possible  that  gold  found  right 
in  this  locality  would  be  of  exactly  the  same 
appearance  as  gold  found  two  hundred  miles 
from  here.  Only — it's  suspicious,"  Rod  con 
cluded. 

"Man  probably  dead,"  consoled  Mukoki. 
"No  lead — hungry — shoot  bear  an'  no  git 
heem.  Mebby  starve!" 

"The  poor  devil!"  exclaimed  Wabigoon. 
"We've  been  too  selfish  to  give  a  thought  to 
that,  Rod.  Of  course  he  was  hungry,  or  ht 


UP   THE   OMBABIKA  133 

wouldn't  have  used  gold  for  bullets.  And 
he  didn't  get  this  bear  I  By  George — " 

"I  wish  he'd  got  him,"  said  Rod  simply. 

Somehow  Mukoki's  words  sent  a  flush  into 
his  face.  There  came  to  him,  suddenly,  a 
mental  picture  of  that  possible  tragedy  in  the 
wilderness:  the  starving  man,  his  last  hopeless 
molding  of  a  golden  bullet,  the  sight  of  the 
monster  bear,  the  shot,  and  after  that  the  de 
spair  and  suffering  and  slow  death  of  the  man 
who  had  fired  it. 

"I  wish  he'd  got  it,"  he  repeated.  "We 
have  plenty  of  grub." 

Mukoki  was  already  at  work  skinning  the 
bear,  and  Rod  and  Wabigoon  unsheathed 
their  knives  and  joined  him. 

"Wound  'bout  fi',  six  month  old,"  said  the 
Indian.  "Shot  just  before  snow." 

"When  there  wasn't  a  berry  in  the  woods 
for  a  starving  man  to  eat,"  added  WabL 
"Well,  here's  hoping  he  found  something, 
Rod." 

An  hour  later  the  three  gold  seekers  re 
turned  to  their  canoe  laden  with  the  choicest 


134  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

of  the*  bear  meat,  and  the  animal's  skin,  which 
was  immediately  stretched  between  two  trees, 
high  up  out  of  the  reach  of  depredating  ani 
mals.  Rod  gazed  at  it  proudly. 

"We'll  be  sure  and  get  it  when  we  come 
back,  won't  we?" 

"Sure,"  replied  Wabi. 

"It  will  be  safe?" 

"As  safe  as  though  it  were  at  home." 

"Unless  somebody  comes  along  and  steals 
it-,1'  added  Rod. 

Wabi  was  busy  unloading  certain  necessary 
articles  from  the  canoe,  but  he  ceased  his  work 
to  look  at  Rod. 

"Steal!"  he  cried  in  astonishment. 

Mukoki,  too,  had  heard  Rod's  remark  and 
was  listening. 

"Rod,"  continued  Wabigoon  quietly,  "that 
is  one  thing  we  don't  have  up  here.  Our 
great  big  glorious  North  doesn't  know  the 
word  thief,  except  when  it  is  applied  to  a 
Woonga.  If  a  white  hunter  came  along  here 
to-morrow,  and  found  that  hide  stretched  so 
low  that  the  animals  were  getting  at  it,  he 


UP   THE   OMBABIKA  135 

would  nail  it  higher  for  us.  An  Indian,  if 
he  camped  here,  would  build  his  fire  so  that 
the  sparks  wouldn't  strike  it.  Rod,  up  here, 
where  we  don't  know  civilization,  we're  hon 
est!" 

"But  down  in  the  States,"  said  Rod,  "the 
Indians  steal." 

The  words  slipped  from  him.  The  next  in 
stant  he  would  have  given  anything  to  have 
been  able  to  recall  them.  Mukoki  had  grown 
a  little  more  tense  in  his  attitude. 

"That's  because  white  men  have  lived  so 
much  among  them,  white  men  who  are  called 
civilized,"  answered  the  young  scion  of  Wa- 
binosh  House,  his  eyes  growing  bright. 
"White  blood  makes  thieves.  Pardon  me  for 
saying  it,  Rod,  but  it  does,  at  least  among  In 
dians.  But  our  white  blood  up  here  is  differ 
ent  from  yours.  It's  the  same  blood  that's  in 
our  Indians,  every  drop  of  it  honest,  loyal  to 
its  friends,  and  it  runs  red  and  strong  with  the 
love  of  this  great  wilderness.  There  are  ex 
ceptions,  of  course,  as  you  have  seen  in  the 
iWoongas,  who  are  an  outlaw  race.  But  we 


136  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

are  honest,  and  Mukoki  there,  if  he  were  dy 
ing  of  cold,  wouldn't  steal  a  skin  to  save  him 
self.  An  ordinary  Indian  might  take  it,  if 
he  were  dying  for  want  of  it,  but  not  unless 
he  had  a  gun  to  leave  in  its  place !" 

"I  didn't  mean  to  say  what  I  did,"  said  Rod. 
"Oh,  I  wish  I  were  one  of  you  I  I  love  this 
big  wilderness,  and  everything  in  it,  and  it's 
glorious  to  hear  you  say  what  you  do !" 

"You  are  one  of  us,"  cried  Wabi,  gripping 
his  hand. 

That  evening,  after  they  had  finished  their 
supper  and  the  three  were  gathered  about  the 
fire,  Wabigoon  said: 

"Muky  could  tell  you  one  reason  why  the 
Indians  of  the  North  are  honest  if  he  wanted 
to,  Rod.  But  he  won't,  so  I  will.  There  was 
once  a  tribe  in  the  country  of  Mukoki's  fore 
fathers,  along  the  Makoki  River,  which  emp 
ties  into  the  Albany,  whose  men  were  great 
thieves,  and  who  stole  from  one  another.  No 
man's  snare  was  safe  from  his  neighbor,  fights 
and  killings  were  of  almost  daily  occurrence, 
and  the  chief  of  the  tribe  was  the  greatest 


UP   THE    OMBABIKA  137 

thief  of  all,  and  of  course  escaped  punish 
ment.  This  chief  loved  to  set  his  own  snares, 
and  one  day  he  was  enraged  to  find  that  one  of 
his  tribe  had  been  so  bold  as  to  set  a  snare 
within  a  few  inches  of  his  own,  and  in  the  trail 
of  the  same  animal.  He  determined  on  met 
ing  out  a  terrible  punishment,  and  waited. 

"While  he  was  waiting  a  rabbit  ran  into  the 
snare  of  his  rival.  Picking  up  a  stick  he  ap 
proached  to  kill  the  game,  when  suddenly 
there  seemed  to  pass  a  white  mist  before  his 
eyes,  and  when  he  looked  again  there  was  no 
rabbit,  but  the  most  wonderful  creature  he 
had  ever  beheld  in  the  form  of  man,  and  he 
knew  that  it  was  the  Great  Spirit,  and  fell 
upon  his  face.  And  a  great  voice  came  to 
him,  as  if  rolling  from  far  beyond  the  most 
distant  mountains,  and  it  told  him  that  the 
forests  and  streams  of  the  red  man's  heaven 
were  closed  to  him  and  his  people,  that  in  the 
hunting-grounds  that  came  after  death  there 
was  no  place  for  thieves. 

"  'Go  to  your  people,'  he  said,  'and  tell  them 
this.  Tell  them  that  from  this  day  on,  moon 


138  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

upon  moon,  until  the  end  of  time,  must  they 
live  like  brothers,  setting  their  snares  side  by 
side  without  war,  to  escape  the  punishment 
that  hovers  over  them.' 

"And  the  chief  told  his  people  this,"  fin 
ished  Wabi,  "and  from  that  hour  there  was 
no  more  thievery  in  the  land.  And  because 
the  Great  Spirit  came  in  the  form  he  did  the 
rabbit  is  the  good  luck  animal  of  the  Crees 
and  Chippewayans  of  the  far  North,  and 
wherever  the  snows  fall  deep,  men  set  their 
traps  side  by  side  to  this  day,  and  do  not  rob." 

Rod  had  listened  with  glowing  eyes. 

"It's  glorious!"  he  repeated.  "It's  glori 
ous,  if  it's  true !" 

"It  is  true,"  said  Wabi.  "In  all  this  great 
country  between  here  and  the  Barren  Lands, 
where  the  musk-ox  lives,  there  is  not  one  In 
dian  in  a  hundred  who  would  steal  another 
Indian's  trap,  or  the  game  in  it.  It  is  one  of 
the  understood  laws  of  the  North  that  every 
hunter  shall  have  his  'trap  line,'  or  'run,'  and 
it  is  not  courtesy  for  another  trapper  to  en 
croach  upon  it;  but  if  he  should,  and  he 


UP   THE   OMBABIKA  139 

should  lay  a  trap  close  beside  another's,  it 
would  not  be  wrong,  for  the  law  of  the  Great 
Spirit  is  greater  than  the  law  of  man.  Why, 
last  winter  even  the  outlaw  Woongas  made 
no  effort  to  steal  our  traps,  though  they 
thirsted  for  our  lives!" 

"Mukoki,"  said  Rod,  rising,  "I  want  to 
shake  hands  with  you  before  I  go  to  bed. 
I'm  learning — fast.  I  wish  I  were  half  In 
dian!" 

The  next  morning  the  journey  up  the  Om- 
babika  was  resumed,  and  a  little  more  of  anx 
iety  was  now  mingled  with  the  enthusiasm 
of  the  adventurers.  For  no  one  of  them  could 
relieve  himself  of  the  possible  significance  of 
the  gold  bullet,  the  fear  that  their  treasure  had 
been  discovered  by  another.  Wabi  regained 
his  confidence  first. 

"I  don't  believe  it!"  he  exclaimed  at  last. 
Without  questioning,  the  others  knew  to  what 
he  referred.  "I  don't  believe  that  our  gold 
has  been  found.  It  is  in  the  heart  of  the  wild 
est  country  on  the  continent,  and  surely  if  such 
a  rich  find  had  been  made  we  would  have 


140  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

heard  something  about  it  at  Wabinosh  House 
or  Kenegami,  which  are  the  nearest  points  of 
supply." 

"Or,  if  it  was  found,  the  discoverer  is 
dead,"  added  Rod. 

"Yes." 

In  the  stern,  Mukoki  nodded  and  grunted 
his  conviction. 

"Dead,"  he  repeated. 

The  Ombabika  had  now  become  narrow 
and  violent.  Against  its  swift  current  the 
canoe  made  but  little  headway,  and  at  noon 
Mukoki  announced  that  the  river  journey  was 
at  an  end.  For  a  few  moments  Rod  did  not 
recognize  where  they  had  landed.  Then  he 
gave  a  sudden  cry  of  glad  surprise. 

"Why,  this  is  where  we  had  supper  that 
night  after  our  terrible  adventure  on  the  river 
dast  winter,"  he  exclaimed. 

From  far  off  there  came  faintly  to  his  ears 
a  low,  rumbling  thunder. 

"Listen!  That's  the  river  rushing  through 
the  break  in  the  mountain  where  we  walked 
the  edge  of  the  precipice!" 


UP   THE   OMBABIKA  141 

Wabi  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  the  memory 
of  that  fearful  night  and  its  desperate  race  to 
escape  from  the  Woonga  country. 

"We've  got  to  do  the  same  thing  again,  only 
this  time  it  will  be  in  daylight." 

"Long  portage,"  said  Mukoki.  "Six  mile, 
Carry  everything." 

"Until  we  reach  the  little  creek  in  the  plains 
beyond  the  mountain,  where  you  shot  the  cari 
bou?"  asked  Rod. 

"Yes,"  replied  Wabigoon.  "That  little 
creek  will  now  be  a  pretty  husky  stream,  and 
by  hard  work  we  can  paddle  up  it  until  we 
come  within  about  eight  miles  of  our  old 
camp  at  the  head  of  the  chasm,  where  we 
found  the  skeletons  and  the  map." 

"And  from  that  point  we  shall  have  to  carry 
our  canoe  and  supplies  to  the  creek  in  the 
chasm,"  finished  Rod.  "And  then — hurrah 
for  the  gold!" 

"Mak'  old  camp  on  mountain  by  night," 
said  Mukoki. 

Wabi  broke  into  a  happy  laugh  and 
thumped  Rod  on  the  back. 


142  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

"Remember  the  big  lynx  you  shot,  Rod, 
and  thought  it  was  a  Woonga,  and  had  us  all 
frightened  out  of  our  wits?"  he  cried. 

Rod  colored  at  the  memory  of  his  funny 
adventure,  which  was  thrilling  enough  at  the 
time,  and  began  assisting  Mukoki  in  unload 
ing  the  canoe.  Two  hours  were  taken  for 
dinner  and  rest,  and  then  the  young  hunters 
shouldered  their  canoe  while  Mukoki  hurried 
on  ahead  of  them,  weighted  with  a  half  of 
their  supplies.  Every  step  now  brought  the 
thunder  of  the  torrent  rushing  through  the 
mountain  more  clearly  to  their  ears,  and  they 
had  not  progressed  more  than  a  mile  whew 
they  were  compelled  to  shout  to  make  each 
other  hear.  On  their  right  the  wall  of  the 
mountain  closed  in  rapidly,  and  as  they  stum 
bled  with  their  burden  over  a  mass  of  hug*, 
boulders  the  two  boys  saw  just  ahead  of  them 
the  narrow  trail  at  the  edge  of  the  precipice. 

At  its  beginning  they  rested  their  canoe.  Oft 
one  side  of  them,  a  dozen  yards  away,  the  face 
of  the  mountain  rose  sheer  above  them  for  a 
thousand  feet;  on  the  other,  scarce  thju  dis- 


UP   THE    OMBABIKA  143 

tance  from  where  they  stood,  was  the  roaring 
chasm.  And  ahead  of  them  the  mountain 
wall  and  the  edge  of  the  precipice  came 
nearer  and  nearer,  until  there  was  no  more 
than  a  six-foot  ledge  to  walk  upon.  Rod's 
face  turned  strangely  white  as  he  realized,  for 
the  first  time,  the  terrible  chances  they  had 
taken  on  that  black,  eventful  night  of  a  few 
months  ago ;  and  for  a  time  Wabi  stood  silent, 
his  face  as  hard-set  as  a  rock.  Up  out  of  the 
chasm  there  came  a  deafening  thunder  of  rag 
ing  waters,  like  the  hollow  explosions  of 
great  guns  echoing  and  reechoing  in  subter 
ranean  caverns. 

"Let's  take  a  look!"  shouted  Wabi  close  up 
to  his  companion's  ear. 

He  went  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  and 
Rod  forced  himself  to  follow,  though  there 
was  in  him  a  powerful  inclination  to  hug  close 
to  the  mountain  wall.  For  half  a  minute  he 
stood  fascinated,  terror-stricken,  and  yet  in 
those  thirty  seconds  he  saw  that  which  would 
remain  with  him  for  a  lifetime.  Five  hun 
dred  feet  below  him  the  over-running  floods 


144  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

of  spring  were  caught  between  the  ragged 
edges  of  the  two  chasm  walls,  beating  them 
selves  in  their  fury  to  the  whiteness  of  milk 
froth,  until  it  seemed  as  though  the  earth  it 
self  must  tremble  under  their  mad  rush.  Now 
and  then  through  the  twisting  foam  there  shot 
the  black  crests  of  great  rocks,  as  though  huge 
monsters  of  some  kind  were  at  play,  whipping 
the  torrent  into  greater  fury,  and  bellowing 
forth  thunderous  voices  when  they  rose  tri 
umphant  for  an  instant  above  the  sweep  of 
the  flood. 

All  this  Rod  saw  in  less  than  a  breath,  and 
he  drew  back,  shivering  in  every  fiber  of  his 
body.  But  Wabigoon  did  not  move.  For 
several  minutes  the  Indian  youth  stood  look 
ing  down  upon  the  wonderful  force  at  play 
below  him,  his  body  as  motionless  as  though 
hewn  out  of  stone,  the  wild  blood  in  his  veins 
leaping  in  response  to  the  tumult  and  thun 
der  of  the  magnificent  spectacle  deep  down  in 
the  chasm.  When  he  turned  to  Rod  his  lips 
made  no  sound,  but  his  eyes  glowed  with  that 
half-slumbering  fire  which  came  only  when 


UP   THE   OMBABIKA  145 

the  red  blood  of  the  princess  mother  gained 
ascendency,  and  the  wild  in  him  called  out 
greeting  to  the  savage  in  nature.  It  is  not 
music,  or  fine  talk,  or  artificial  wonders  that 
waken  a  thrill  deep  down  in  the  Indian  soul, 
it  is  the  great  mountain,  the  vast  plain,  the 
roaring  cataract!  And  so  it  was  with  Wabi- 
goon. 

They  went  on,  now,  with  the  canoe  upon 
their  shoulders,  and  hugging  close  to  the 
mountain  wall.  Slowly,  avoiding  every 
stone  and  stick  that  might  cause  one  of  them 
to  stumble,  they  passed  along  the  perilously 
narrow  ledge,  and  did  not  rest  again  until 
they  had  come  in  safety  to  the  broader  trail 
leading  up  the  mountain.  An  hour  later  Mu- 
koki  met  them  on  his  return  for  the  remainder 
of  their  supplies.  Shortly  after  this  they 
reached  the  small  plateau  where  they  had 
camped  during  the  previous  winter,  and  low 
ered  their  canoe  close  to  the  old  balsam  shel 
ter. 

Everything  was  as  the}  had  left  it.  Neither 
snow  nor  storm  had  destroyed  their  lodging 


146  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

of  boughs.  There  were  the  charred  remains 
of  their  fire,  the  bones  of  the  huge  lynx 
which  Roderick  had  thought  was  an  attack 
ing  Woonga,  and  had  killed ;  and  beside  the 
shelter  was  a  stake  driven  into  the  ground, 
the  stake  to  which  they  had  fastened  their 
faithful  comrade  of  many  an  adventure,  the 
tame  wolf. 

To  this  stake  went  Wabigoon,  speaking  no 
word.  He  sat  down  close  beside  it,  with  his 
arm  resting  upon  it,  and  when  he  looked  up 
at  Rod  there  was  an  expression  in  his  face 
which  spoke  more  than  words. 

"Poor  old  Wolf!" 

Rod  turned  and  walked  to  the  edge  of  the 
plateau,  something  hot  and  uncomfortable 
filling  his  eyes.  Below  him,  as  far  as  he  could 
see,  there  stretched  the  vast,  mysterious  wil 
derness  that  reached  to  Hudson  Bay.  And 
somewhere  out  there  in  that  limitless  space 
was  Wolf. 

As  he  looked,  the  hot  film  clouding  his 
vision,  he  thought  of  the  old  tragedy  in  Mu- 
koki's  life,  and  of  how  Wolf  had  helped  him 


UP   THE   OMBABIKA  147 

to  avenge  himself.  In  his  imagination  he 
went  back  to  that  terrible  day  many,  many 
years  ago,  when  Mukoki,  happy  in  the 
•strength  of  his  youth,  found  his  young  wife 
and  child  dead  upon  the  trail,  killed  by 
wolves;  he  thought  of  the  story  that  Wabi  had 
told  him  of  the  madness  that  came  to  the 
young  warrior,  of  how  year  after  year  he  fol 
lowed  the  trail  of  wolves,  wreaking  his  ven 
geance  on  their  breed.  And  last  he  thought  ot 
Wolf — how  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon  had 
found  the  whelp  in  one  of  their  traps;  how 
they  tamed  him,  grew  to  love  him,  and  taught 
him  to  decoy  other  wolves  to  their  rifles. 
Wolf  had  been  their  comrade  of  a  few  months 
before;  fearless,  faithful,  until  at  last,  escap 
ing  from  the  final  murderous  assault  of  the 
Woongas,  he  had  fled  into  the  forests,  while 
his  human  friends  fought  their  way  back  to 
civilization. 

Where  was  Wolf  now? 

Unconsciously  Rod  questioned  himself 
aloud,  and  from  close  behind  him  Wabi  an 
swered. 


148  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

"With  the  hunt-pack,  Rod.  He's  forgotten 
vus;  gone  back  to  the  wild." 

"Gone  back  to  the  wild,  yes,"  said  Rod; 
"but  forgotten  us,  no!" 

Wabi  made  no  reply. 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  SHOT 

FOR  many  minutes  the  two  stood  si 
lently  gazing  into  the  North.  At  their 
feet  spread  the  broad  plain  where 
Mukoki  had  killed  the  caribou  while  they 
watched  him  from  the  plateau;  beyond  that 
were  the  dense  stretches  of  forest,  broken  here 
and  there  by  other  plains  and  meadows,  and 
a  dozen  lakes  glistened  in  the  red  tints  of  the 
setting  sun.  When  Rod  first  looked  upon  that 
country  a  few  months  before  it  was  a  world  of 
ice  and  snow,  a  cold,  dazzling  panorama  of 
white  that  reached  from  where  he  stood  to 
the  Pole.  Now  it  was  wakening  under  the 
first  magic  touch  of  spring.  Far  away  the 
two  young  gold  hunters  caught  a  glimmer  of 
the  stream  which  they  were  to  follow  up  to  the 
chasm.  Last  winter  it  had  been  a  tiny  creek; 
now  it  was  swollen  to  the  size  of  a  river. 

149 


THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

Suddenly,  as  they  looked,  two  dark  objects 
came  slowly  out  into  an  opening  a  mile  away. 
At  that  distance  they  appeared  hardly  larger 
tHan  dogs,  and  Rod,  whose  mind  was  still; 
filled   with    thoughts    of   Wolf,    exclaimed 
"Wolves!" 

In  the  same  breath  he  caught  himself,  and 
added: 

"Moose!" 

"A  cow  and  her  calf,"  said  Wabi. 

"How  do  you  know?"  asked  Rod. 

"There;  watch  them  now!"  cried  Wabi, 
catching  his  companion  by  the  arm.  "The 
mother  is  ahead,  and  even  from  here  I  can 
see  that  she  is  pacing.  A  moose  never  trots 
or  gallops,  like  a  deer,  but  paces,  using  both 
feet  on  a  side  at  the  same  time.  Notice  how 
the  calf  jumps  about.  An  old  moose  would 
never  do  that." 

"But  both  animals  look  to  be  about  the  same 
size,"  replied  Rod,  still  doubtful. 

"It's  a  two-year-old  calf ;  almost  as  big  as  its 
mother.  In  fact,  it's  not  really  a  calf,  because 
it  is  too  old ;  but  so  long  as  young  moose  stick 


THE   MYSTERIOUS    SHOT          151 

to  their  mothers  we  call  them  calves  up  here. 
I've  known  them  to  remain  together  for  three 
years." 

"They're  coming  this  way!"  whispered  the 
white  youth. 

The  moose  had  turned,  heading  for  the  base 
of  the  mountain  upon  which  they  stood.  Wabi 
drew  his  companion  behind  a  big  rock,  from 
which  both  could  look  down  without  being 
seen. 

"Be  quiet!"  he  warned.  "They're  coming 
to  feed  on  the  sprouting  poplar  along  the 
mountain  side.  Just  been  over  to  the  creek 
to  get  a  drink.  We  may  have  some  fun !" 

He  wet  a  finger  in  his  mouth  and  held  it 
above  his  head,  the  forest  pathfinder's  infal» 
lible  method  of  telling  how  the  wind  blows. 
No  matter  how  slight  the  movement  of  the 
air  may  be,  one  side  of  the  finger  dries  first, 
in  an  instant,  and  is  warm,  while  the  side  that 
remains  damp  is  cold,  and  in  the  lee,  that  side 
toward  which  the  wind  is  blowing. 

"The  wind  is  wrong,  dead  wrong,"  said 
iWabi.  "It's  blowing  straight  toward  them. 


152  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

Unless  we  are  so  high  that  our  scent  goes 
above  them  they  won't  come  much  nearer." 

Another  minute  and  Rod  nudged  Wabi- 
goon. 

"They're  within  range!" 

"Yes,  but  we  won't  shoot.  We  don't  neec? 
meat." 

As  the  young  Indian  spoke  the  cow  brought 
herself  to  a  dead  stop  so  suddenly  that  Wabi 
gave  a  delighted  grunt. 

"Great  I"  he  whispered.  "She's  caught  a 
whiff  of  us,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away.  See 
how  she  holds  her  head,  her  great  ears 
chucked  forward  to  hear,  her  nose  half  to  the 
sky!  She  knows  there's  danger  on  this  moun 
tain.  Now — " 

He  did  not  finish.  Like  a  flash  the  cow  had 
darted  ahead  of  her  calf,  seeming  to  shoulder 
it  back,  and  in  another  moment  the  two  were 
racing  swiftly  into  the  North,  the  mother  this 
time  in  the  rear  instead  of  leading. 

"I  love  moose,"  said  Wabi,  his  eyes  glow 
ing.  "Do  you  notice  that  I  never  shoot  them, 
Rod?" 


THE   MYSTERIOUS    SHOT          153 

"By  George,  so  you  don't!  I  never  thought 
of  it.  What  is  the  reason?" 

"There  are  a  good  many  reasons.  Of  course 
I  have  shot  them,  when  in  very  great  need  of 
meat;  but  it's  an  unpleasant  job  for  me.  You 
call  the  lion  the  king  of  beasts.  Well,  he 
isn't.  The  moose  is  monarch  of  them  all. 
You  saw  how  the  mother  moose  acted.  She 
led  her  calf  when  approaching,  because  if 
there  should  be  danger  she  wanted  to  meet  it 
first;  and  when  she  found  danger  she  drove 
her  calf  ahead  of  her  in  retreat,  so  that  if  harm 
came  to  either  of  them  it  would  come  to  her. 
Isn't  that  the  human  mother  instinct?  And 
the  bull  is  glorious!  In  the  mating  season  he 
will  face  a  dozen  men  in  defense  of  his  cow. 
If  she  falls  first  he  will  stand  between  her 
body  and  the  hunters'  rifles,  pawing  the  earth, 
his  eyes  glaring  defiance,  until  he  is  riddled 
with  bullets.  Once  I  saw  a  wounded  cow, 
and  as  she  staggered  away  the  big  bull  that 
was  with  her  hugged  her  close  behind,  never 
for  a  moment  leaving  her  exposed  to  the  fire, 
but  unflinchingly  taking  every  bullet  in  his 


154  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

own  body.  So  beautiful  was  his  courage  that 
you  would  not  have  known  he  was  wounded 
until  he  fell  dead  in  his  tracks,  literally  cut 
to  pieces.  It  was  that  sight  that  made  me 
swear  never  to  kill  another  moose — unless  I 
had  to." 

Rod  was  silent.  The  mother  and  the  calf 
had  disappeared  when  he  turned  to  Wabi- 
goon. 

"I'm  glad  you  told  me  that,  Wabi,"  he  said. 
"You  are  teaching  me  new  things  about  this 
big  wilderness  every  day.  I've  shot  one 
moose.  I  won't  shoot  another  unless  we  need 
him." 

They  went  back  to  their  old  camp,  and  by 
the  time  Mukoki  returned  with  his  second 
load  everything  was  in  shape  for  the  night, 
and  a  supper  of  delicious  bear  steaks,  coffee 
and  "hot-stone  biscuits,"  as  Rod  called  their 
baked  combination  of  flour,  water  and  salt, 
was  soon  ready.  After  their  meal  the  three 
sat  for  a  long  time  near  the  fire,  for  there  was 
still  a  slight  chill  in  the  night  air,  and  talked 
mostly  about  Wolf  and  his  adventures.  Rod, 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    SHOT          155 

in  his  distant  home  in  civilization  had 
read  and  heard  much  that  was  false  about 
wild  animals,  was  confident  that  Wolf  would 
find  they  had  returned  into  the  wilderness 
and  would  join  them  again,  and  to  corrobo 
rate  his  belief  he  narrated  several  stories  of 
Similar  happenings.  Wabigoon  listened 
courteously  to  him,  which  is  the  way  of  the 
Indian.  Then  he  said: 

"Such  stories  as  those  are  false,  Rod.  When 
I  spent  my  year  at  school  with  you  I  read 
dozens  of  stories  about  wild  animals,  and  very 
few  of  them  were  true.  All  sorts  of  people 
write  about  the  wilderness,  and  yet  not  one 
out  of  a  hundred  of  those  same  people  have 
ever  been  in  the  real  wilderness.  And  it  is 
wonderful  what  some  of  them  make  wild  ani 
mals  do!" 

Rod  straightened  himselt  with  a  jerk. 

"I  have  been  here  only  a  few  months,  Wabi, 
and  yet  I  have  seen  more  wonderful  things 
about  animals  than  I  have  ever  read  in  print,'' 
he  declared. 

"Of  course  you  have,"  agreed  his  compan- 


156  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

ion.  "And  there  is  just  the  point  I  want  to 
make  clear.  Wild  animals  are  the  most  won 
derful  creatures  in  existence,  and  if  some  of 
their  actual  habits  and  adventures  were  told 
they  would  be  laughed  at  down  where  you 
came  from.  Where  your  writers  make  their 
mistake  is  in  bringing  them  into  too  close  as 
sociation  with  human  beings,  and  making 
them  half  human.  Wolf  remained  with  us 
because  he  knew  no  better.  We  caught  him 
when  he  was  a  whelp,  and  as  he  grew  older 
both  Mukoki  and  I  could  see  that  at  times  he 
was  filled  with  a  wild  longing  to  join  his 
people.  We  knew  that  it  was  coming.  He 
will  never  return  to  us." 

Mukoki  made  a  soft  sound  deep  down  in 
his  throat,  and  Rod  turned  suddenly  toward 
him. 

"You  believe  that,  Mukoki?" 

"Wolf  gone!" 

"But  animals  think,  don't  they?"  persisted 
Rod,  to  whom  the  discussion  was  of  absorb 
ing  interest.  "They  reason,  they  remember!" 

"They  do  all  of  that,"  replied  Wabi,  "and 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    SHOT          157 

more.  I  have  read  certain  so-called  natural 
history  stories  which  ridiculed  the  idea  of 
wild  animals  possessing  mental  abilities,  and 
which  ascribed  pretty  nearly  all  their  actions 
to  instinct.  Such  stories  are  as  wrong  as  those 
which  give  wild  animals  human  endowments. 
Animals  do  think.  Don't  you  suppose  that 
mother  moose  was  thinking  when  she  stopped 
out  there  in  the  plain?  Wasn't  she  turning 
the  situation  over  in  her  mind,  if  you  want  to 
speak  of  it  as  that,  and  mentally  figuring  just 
where  the  danger  lay,  and  in  which  direction 
she  ought  to  take  flight?  And  besides  reason 
wild  animals  have  instinct.  One  proof  of  this 
is  their  sixth  sense;  the  sense  of — of — what  do 
you  call  it?" 

"Orientation?"  assisted  Rod. 

"Yes;  that's  it.  Orientation.  A  bear,  for 
instance,  doesn't  carry  a  compass  with  him, 
as  some  nature  writers  would  like  to  have  you 
believe,  and  yet  he  can  go  from  this  moun 
tain  to  a  den  a  hundred  miles  away  as  straight 
as  a  bird  can  fly.  That's  instinct." 

"Then  Wolf—"  mused  Rod  slowly. 


158  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

"Is  with  the  hunt  pack,"  finished  the  young 
Indian. 

Mukoki  spoke  softly,  as  though  to  himself. 

"Last  winter  the  snow  came,  and  now  it 
is  water.  Two  moons  past,  Wolf,  heem  tame. 
Now  wild.  The  Great  Spirit  say  that  is  right, 
I  guess  so." 

"He  means  that  it  is  nature,"  said  Wabi. 

For  an  hour  after  the  others  had  wrapped 
themselves  in  their  blankets  Rod  sat  alone 
beside  the  fire,  listening,  and  thinking.  And 
after  that  he  went  to  the  edge  of  the  plateau, 
and  watched  the  great  spring  moon  as  it 
floated  slowly  over  the  vast,  still  wilderness. 
How  wonderful  these  solitudes  were,  how  lit 
tle  the  teeming  millions  of  civilization  knew 
about  them !  Somehow,  in  those  moments,  as 
he  watched  the  shivering  Northern  Lights 
playing  far  beyond  the  farthest  footstep  of 
man,  there  came  to  Roderick  Drew  the 
thought  that  God  must  be  nearer  to  earth 
here  than  anywhere  else  in  the  world.  For 
the  first  time  his  soul  was  filled  with  some 
thing  that  was  almost  love  for  the  red  man's 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    SHOT          159 

Great  Spirit.  And  why  not?  For  was  not 
that  Great  Spirit  his  own  God?  Sad,  lonely, 
silent,  mysterious,  a  whole  world  lay  before 
him,  a  world  that  was  the  Indian  Bible,  that 
contained  for  the  red  man  of  the  North  the 
teachings  and  the  voice  of  the  Creator  of  all 
things.  A  wind  had  risen  and  was  whisper 
ing  over  the  plains;  he  heard  the  hushed 
voices  of  the  quivering  poplar  boughs,  and 
there  came  from  far  below  him  the  soft, 
chuckling,  mating  hoot  of  an  owl.  Gradu 
ally  his  eyes  closed,  and  he  leaned  more  heav 
ily  upon  the  rock  against  which  he  had 
seated  himself.  After  that  he  dreamed  of  what 
he  had  looked  upon,  while  the  fire  at  the  camp 
died  away,  and  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon  slum 
bered,  oblivious  of  his  absence. 

Of  how  long  he  slept  Rod  had  no  idea. 
He  was  suddenly  brought  back  into  wakeful- 
ness  by  a  sound  that  startled  him  to  the  mar 
row  of  his  bones,  a  terrible  scream  close  to 
his  ears.  He  sat  bolt  upright,  quaking  in 
every  limb.  For  a  moment  he  tried  to  cry  out, 
but  his  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of  his  mouth. 


160  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

What  had  happened?  Was  it  Wabi,  or  Mu- 
koki? 

A  dozen  paces  away  was  a  huge  rock  and 
as  he  looked  he  saw  something  move  upon  it, 
a  long,  lithe  object  that  shone  a  silvery  white 
in  the  moonlight,  and  he  knew  that  it  was  a 
lynx.  Stealthily  Rod  reached  for  his  rifle, 
which  had  slipped  between  his  knees,  and  as 
he  did  so  the  lynx  sent  forth  another  of  its 
blood-curdling  screams.  Even  now  the  white 
youth  shivered  at  the  sound,  so  much  like  the 
terrible  cry  of  some  person  in  dying  agony. 
He  leveled  his  gun.  There  was  a  flash  in  the 
moonlight,  a  sharp  report,  and  a  shout  from 
the  direction  of  the  camp.  In  another  moment 
Rod  was  upon  his  feet,  and  sorry  that  he  had 
shot.  It  flashed  upon  him  that  he  might  have 
watched  the  lynx,  one  of  the  night  pirates  of 
all  this  strange  wilderness,  and  that  its  pelt,  at 
this  season,  would  be  worthless.  He  went  to 
the  rock  cautiously.  The  lynx  was  not  there. 
He  walked  around  it,  holding  his  rifle  in 
readiness  for  attack.  The  lynx  was  go***.  He 
had  made  a  clean  miss! 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    SHOT          161 

Both  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon  met  him  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  rock. 

"  'Nother  heap  big  Woonga,"  grinned  the 
old  pathfinder  remembering  Rod's  former  ad 
venture  on  this  same  plateau.  "Kill?" 

"Missed!"  said  Rod  shortly.  "What  a 
scream  that  was!  Ugh!" 

This  time  he  went  to  bed  with  the  others, 
and  slept  until  early  dawn.  The  morning  was 
one  of  those  rare  gifts  of  budding  spring, 
warm  and  redolent  with  the  sweetness  of  new 
life,  and  its  beauty  acted  as  a  tonic  on  the  three 
adventurers.  Their  fears  of  the  day  before 
were  gone,  and  with  song  and  whistle  and 
cheery  voice  they  began  the  descent  of  the 
mountain.  Mukoki  went  on  ahead  of  Rod  and 
Wabigoon  with  his  pack,  and  the  two  boys 
had  not  made  more  than  two  of  the  six  miles 
in  the  portage  across  the  plain  when  he  met 
them  again,  returning  for  his  second  load.  By 
noon  the  canoe  and  its  contents  were  safelv  at 
the  efcck,  aaa  me  gold  hunters  halted  until 
after  dinner.  The  little  stream  across  which 
Rod  had  easily  leaped  without  wetting  his 


i62  THE    GOLD   HUNTERS 

feet  a  few  weeks  before  had  swollen  into  a 
fair-sized  river,  and  in  places  its  searching 
waters  had  formed  tiny  lakes.  Unlike  the  Om- 
babika,  sweeping  down  from  its  mountain 
heights,  there  was  but  little  current  here,  a 
fact  that  immensely  pleased  Mukoki  and  his 
companions. 

"We  near  mak'  cabin  to-night,"  said  the  old 
Indian.  "I  take  load  to-night." 

During  the  two  hours'  paddle  up-stream 
Mukoki  spoke  but  little,  and  as  they  ap 
proached  nearer  to  their  last  winter's  thrilling 
fight  with  the  Woongas,  in  which  they  had  so 
nearly  lost  their  lives,,,  he  ceased  even  to  re 
spond  by  nod  or  grunt  to  the  conversation  of 
his  companions.  Once  Wabigoon  spoke  again 
of  Wolf,  and  for  an  instant  the  old  Indian, 
who  was  in  the  bow,  half  turned  to  them,  and 
for  two  strokes  his  paddle  rested  in  mid  air. 
From  the  stern  Wabi  reached  forward  and 
poked  Rod,  and  the  white  youth  understood. 
Next  to  Minnetaki  and  Wabigoon,  and  per 
haps  himself,  he  knew  that  the  faithful  path 
finder  loved  Wolf  best,  and  that  he  was  filled 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    SHOT          163 

with  a  little  of  that  savage  madness  which 
came  to  him  now  and  then  when  he  dwelt  on 
the  terrible  tragedy  that  had  entered  his  life 
many  years  before.  When  the  hunters  reached 
the  end  of  their  canoe  journey  up  the  stream 
Mukoki  silently  shouldered  his  pack  and  set 
out  over  the  plain.  He  spoke  no  word,  made 
no  sign. 

"It  would  be  useless,"  said  Wabigoon,  as 
Rod  made  a  movement  as  if  to  follow  and  stop 
their  comrade.  "No  persuasion  could  turn 
Mukoki  now.  He  wants  to  reach  the  old  camp 
to-night,  where  Wolf  disappeared.  He  won't 
be  back  until  morning." 

And  Mukoki  went  on,  never  for  an  instant 
turning  his  face,  until  his  companions  lost 
sight  of  him.  But  once  out  of  their  vision  his 
manner  took  on  a  strange  and  sudden  change. 
He  lowered  the  head  strap  of  his  pack  over  his 
breast,  so  that  he  might  clutch  at  it  with  one 
hand,  and  move  his  head  freely.  His  eyes 
glowed  with  the  dull  fire  of  wakening  excite 
ment;  his  steps  were  quick,  and  yet  cautious, 
every  movement  in  his  advance  was  one  of 


1 64  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

listening  and  watchful  expectancy.  A  person 
watching  the  old  warrior  would  have  said  that 
he  was  keenly  on  the  alert  for  game,  or  danger. 
And  yet  the  safety  of  his  rifle  was  locked,  a 
fresh  trail  of  bear  aroused  no  new  interest  in 
him,  and  when  he  heard  a  crashing  in  the 
brush  on  his  right,  where  a  buck  had  got  wind 
of  him,  he  gave  but  a  single  glance  in  its  di 
rection.  He  was  not  seeking  game.  Nor  were 
his  fears  aroused  by  suspicion  of  possible  dan 
ger.  Wherever  the  ground  was  soft  and  moist 
he  traveled  slowly,  with  his  eyes  on  the  earth, 
and  at  one  of  these  spots  he  came  to  a  sudden 
pause.  Before  him  were  the  clearly  defined 
imprints  of  a  wolf's  feet. 

With  a  low  cry  Mukoki  threw  off  his  pack 
and  fell  upon  his  knees.  His  eyes  burned 
fiercely  now.  There  was  something  of  mad 
ness  in  the  way  in  which  he  groveled  in  the 
soft  earth,  creeping  from  one  footprint  to  the 
next  ahead  of  it,  and  stopping  always  where 
the  right  forefoot  had  left  its  track.  It  was 
that  foot  which  had  held  Wolf  a  captive  in 
Mukoki's  trap,  and  he  had  lost  two  toes.  None 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    SHOT          165 

was  missing  here,  and  the  old  pathfinder  rose 
to  his  feet  again,  disappointment  shadowing 
the  twitching  expectancy  in  his  face. 

Five  times  that  afternoon  Mukoki  fell  on 
his  knees  beside  the  trails  of  wolves,  and  five 
times  the  light  of  hope  went  out  for  a  moment 
in  his  eyes.  It  was  sunset  when  he  climbed  the 
mountain  ridge  to  the  little  lake  hidden  away 
in  the  dip ;  only  a  last  pale  glow  tinted  the  sky 
behind  the  forests  when  he  set  down  his  pack 

close  to  the  charred  remains  of  the  old  cabin. 

\ 

For  many  minutes  he  rested,  his  gaze  fixed  on 
those  blackened  reminders  of  their  thrilling 
battle  for  life  the  winter  before.  His  wild 
blood  leaped  again  at  the  thought  of  the  strife, 
of  the  desperate  race  that  he  and  Roderick 
had  run  over  the  mountain  to  the  burning 
cabin,  and  of  their  rescue  of  Wabigoon.  Sud 
denly  his  eyes  caught  the  white  gleam  of 
something  half  a  hundred  paces  away,  and  he 
rose  and  walked  toward  it,  grunting  and 
chuckling  in  half-savage  pleasure.  The 
Woongas  had  not  returned  to  bury  their  dead, 
and  the  bones  beside  which  he  stopped  were 


1 66  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

those  of  the  outlaw  whom  Wabigoon  had 
killed,  picked  clean  by  the  small  animals  of 
the  forest. 

Mukoki  returned  to  his  pack  and  sat  down. 
As  darkness  fell  about  him  he  made  no  ef 
fort  to  build  a  fire.  He  had  brought  food, 
but  did  not  eat  it.  More  dense  grew  the 
shadows  in  the  forest,  thicker  the  gloom  that 
hung  over  the  mountains.  Still  he  sat,  silent, 
listening.  To  him,  softly  and  timidly  at  first, 
came  the  sounds  of  the  night:  the  chuckling 
notes  of  birds  that  awakened  when  the  earth 
masked  itself  in  darkness,  the  hoot  of  an  owl, 
the  faint  wailing  echo  of  a  far-away  lynx  cry, 
the  plunge  of  a  mink  in  the  lake.  And  now 
the  wind  began  whispering  in  the  balsams, 
singing  gently  its  age-old  song  of  loneliness, 
of  desolation,  of  mystery,  and  Mukoki 
straightened  himself  and  looked  to  where  the 
red  glow  of  the  moon  was  rising  above  the 
mountain.  After  a  little  he  rose  to  his  feet, 
took  his  rifle,  and  climbed  to  the  summit  of  the 
ridge,  with  a  thousand  miles  of  wilderness 
sweeping  between  him  and  the  Arctic  sea. 


THE    MYSTERIOUS    SHOT          167 

And  somewhere  out  there  in  that  wilderness—' 
was  Wolf ! 

The  moon  rose  higher.  It  disclosed  the  old 
Indian,  as  rigid  as  a  rock,  with  his  back  to  a 
white,  barkless  tree  in  which  the  sap  had  run 
dry  a  generation  before.  As  he  stood  there  he 
heard  a  sound,  and  turned  his  face  toward  it, 
a  sound  that  came  from  a  mass  of  tumbled 
boulders,  like  the  falling  of  a  small  rock  upon 
a  larger  one.  And  as  he  looked  there  came 
from  the  darkness  of  the  boulders  a  flash  of 
fire  and  the  explosion  of  a  gun,  and  as  Mukoki 
crumpled  down  in  his  tracks  there  followed 
a  cry  so  terrible,  so  unhuman,  so  blood-cur 
dling  that,  as  he  fell,  an  answering  cry  of  hor 
ror  burst  from  the  lips  of  the  old  warrior.  He 
lay  like  dead,  though  he  was  not  touched.  In 
stinct  more  than  reason  had  impelled  him  to 
fall  at  the  sound  of  the  mysterious  shot.  Cau 
tiously  he  wormed  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder 
But  there  came  no  movement  from  the  rocks. 

Then,  from  half-way  down  the  mountain, 
there  came  again  that  terrible  cry,  and  Mu 
koki  knew  that  no  animal  in  all  these  wilds 


i68  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

could  make  it,  but  that  it  was  human,  and  yet 
more  savage  than  anything  that  had  ever 
brought  terror  into  his  soul.  Trembling,  he 
crouched  to  the  earth,  a  nameless  fear  chilling 
the  bldod  in  his  veins.  And  the  cry  came 
again,  and  yet  again,  always  farther  and  far 
ther  away,  now  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain, 
now  upon  the  plain,  now  floating  away  toward 
the  chasm,  echoing  and  reechoing  between  the 
mountain  ridges,  startling  the  creatures  of  the 
night  into  silence,  and  wresting  deep  sobbing 
breaths  from  out  of  Mukoki's  soul.  And  the 
old  warrior  moved  not  a  muscle  until  far 
away,  miles  and  miles,  it  seemed,  there  died 
the  last  echo  of  it,  and  only  the  whispering 
winds  rustled  over  the  mountain  top. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  CRY  IN  THE  CHASM 

IF  Mukoki  had  been  a  white  man  he  woulc 
have  analyzed  in  some  way  the  meaning 
of  those  strange  cries.  But  the  wild  and 
its  savage  things  formed  his  world;  and  his 
world,  until  this  night,  had  never  known  hu 
man  or  beast  that  could  make  the  terrible 
sounds  he  had  heard.  So  for  an  hour  he 
crouched  where  he  had  fallen,  still  trembling 
with  that  nameless  fear,  and  trying  hard  to 
form  a  solution  of  what  had  happened. 
Slowly  he  recovered  himself.  For  many  years 
he  had  mingled  with  white  people  at  the  Post 
and  reason  now  battled  with  the  superstition} 
of  his  race. 

He  had  been  fired  at.  He  had  heard  thej 
whistling  song  of  the  ball  ovejr  his  head,  and 
had  heard  it  strike  the  tree  behind  him.  For  a 
time  those  rocks  toward  which  he  stared  like 

169 


170  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

a  fascinated  beast  had  concealed  a  man.  But 
what  kind  of  man!  He  remembered  the  an 
cient  battle-cries  of  his  tribe,  and  of  the  ene 
mies  of  his  tribe,  but  none  was  like  the  cries 
that  had  followed  the  shot.  He  heard  them 
still ;  they  rang  in  his  ears,  and  sent  shivering 
chills  up  his  back.  And  the  more  he  tried  to 
reason  the  greater  that  nameless  fear  grew  in 
him,  until  he  slunk  like  an  animal  down  the 
side  of  the  mountain,  through  the  dip,  and  out 
again  upon  the  plain.  And  with  that  same 
nameless  fear  always  close  behind  him,  urging 
him  on  with  its  terrors,  he  sped  back  over  the 
trail  that  he  had  followed  that  day,  nor  for  an 
instant  did  he  stop  to  rest  until  he  came  to  the 
camp-fire  of  Rod  and  Wabigoon. 

Usually  an  Indian  hides  his  fears;  he  con 
ceals  them  as  a  white  man  does  his  sins.  But  to 
night  Mukoki's  experience  had  passed  beyond 
the  knowledge  of  his  race,  and  he  told  of  what 
had  happened,  trembling  still,  cringing  when 
a  great  white  rabbit  darted  close  to  the  fire. 
Rod  and  Wabi  listened  to  him  in  mute  aston 
ishment. 


THE    CRY   IN   THE    CHASM         171 

"Could  it  have  been  a  Woonga?"  asked 
Wabi. 

"No  Woonga,"  replied  the  old  warrior 
quickly,  shaking  his  head.  "Woonga  no  mak' 
noise  lak  that!" 

He  drew  away  from  the  fire,  wrapped  him 
self  in  a  blanket,  and  crept  into  the  shelter  that 
Rod  and  Wabigoon  had  built.  The  two  boys 
looked  at  each  other  in  silence. 

"Muky  has  certainly  had  some  most  extraor 
dinary  adventure,"  said  Wabi  at  last.  "I  have 
never  seen  him  like  this  before.  It  is  easy  to 
guess  the  meaning  of  the  shot.  Some  of  the 
Woongas  may  still  be  in  the  country,  and  one 
of  them  saw  Mukoki,  and  fired  at  him.  But 
the  scream!  What  do  you  make  of  that?" 

"Do  you  suppose,"  whispered  Rod,  speak 
ing  close  to  his  companion's  ear,  "that  Mu- 
koki's  imagination  helped  him  out  to-night?" 
He  paused  for  a  moment  as  he  saw  the  look  of 
disapproval  in  Wabigoon's  eyes,  and  then 
went  on.  "I  don't  mean  to  hint  that  he 
stretched  his  story  purposely.  He  was  stand 
ing  on  the  mountain  top.  Suddenly  there  came 


172  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

a  flash  of  fire,  the  report  of  a  rifle,  and  a  bullet 
zipped  close  to  his  head.  And  at  that  same  in 
stant,  or  a  moment  later — well,  you  remember 
the  scream  of  the  lynx!" 

"You  believe  that  it  might  have  been  a  lynx, 
startled  by  the  shot,  and  sent  screaming  across 
the  plain?" 

"Yes." 

"Impossible.  At  the  sound  of  that  shot  a 
lynx  would  have  remained  as  still  as  death !" 

"Still  there  are  always  exceptions,"  per 
sisted  the  white  youth. 

"Not  in  the  case  of  lynx,"  declared  Wabi- 
goon.  "No  animal  made  those  cries.  Mukoki 
is  as  fearless  as  a  lion.  The  cry  of  a  lynx  would 
have  stirred  his  blood  with  pleasure  instead  of 
fear.  Whatever  the  sounds  were  they  turned 
Mukoki's  blood  into  water.  They  made  him 
a  coward,  and  he  ran,  ran,  mind  you!  until  he 
got  back  to  us!  Is  that  like  Mukoki?  I  tell 
you  the  cries — " 

"What?" 

"Were  something  very  unusual,"  finished 
Wabigoon  quietly,  rising  to  his  feet.  "Per- 


THE    CRY    IN    THE    CHASM         173 

haps  we  will  find  out  more  to-morrow.  As  it 
is,  I  believe  we  had  better  stand  guard  in  camp 
to-night.  I  will  go  to  bed  now  and  you  can 
awaken  me  after  a  while." 

Wabigoon's  words  and  the  strangeness  of 
his  manner  put  Rod  ill  at  ease,  despite  his  ar 
guments  of  a  few  moments  before,  and  no 
sooner  did  he  find  himself  alone  beside  the  fire 
than  he  began  to  be  filled  with  an  unpleasant 
premonition  of  lurking  danger.  For  a  time  he 
sat  very  still,  trying  to  peer  into  the  shadows 
beyond  the  fire  and  listening  to  the  sounds  that 
came  to  him  from  out  of  the  night.  As  he 
watched  and  listened  his  brain  worked  cease 
lessly,  conjuring  picture  after  picture  of  what 
that  danger  might  be,  and  at  last  he  drew  out 
of  the  firelight  and  concealed  himself  in  the 
deep  gloom  of  the  bush.  From  here  he  could 
see  the  camp,  and  at  the  same  time  was  safe 
from  a  possible  rifle  shot. 

V 

The  night  passed  with  tedious  slowness,  and 
he  was  glad  when,  a  little  after  midnight, 
Wabi  came  out  to  relieve  him.  At  dawn  he 
was  in  turn  awakened  by  the  young  Indian. 


174  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

Mukoki  was  already  up  and  had  prepared  his 
pack.  Apparently  he  had  regained  his  old 
spirits,  but  both  Rod  and  Wabigoon  could  see 
that  behind  them  the  fear  of  the  preceding 
night  still  haunted  him.  That  morning  he  did 
not  set  off  ahead  of  the  two  boys  with  his  pack 
but  walked  beside  them,  stopping  to  rest  when 
they  lowered  their  canoe,  his  eyes  never  ceas 
ing  their  sharp  scrutiny  of  the  plain  and  dis 
tant  ridges.  Once  when  Mukoki  mounted  a 
big  rock  to  look  about  him,  Wabi  whispered, 

"I  tell  you  it's  strange,  Rod — mighty 
strange  1" 

An  hour  later  the  old  warrior  halted  and 
threw  off  his  load.  The  three  had  approached 
within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  the  dip  in  the 
mountain. 

"Leave  canoe  here,"  he  said.  "Go  lak  fox  to 
old  camp.  Mebbe  see  1" 

He  took  the  lead  now,  followed  closely  by 
the  boys.  The  safety  of  the  old  pathfinder's 
rifle  was  down,  and  following  his  example 
Rod  and  Wabigoon  held  their  own  guns  in 
readiness  for  instant  fire.  As  they  neared  the 


THE   CRY   IN    THE   CHASM        175 

summit  of  the  ridge  on  which  Mukoki's  life 
had  been  attempted  the  suspense  of  the  two 
young  hunters  became  almost  painfully  acute. 
Mukoki's  actions  not  only  astonished  them, 
but  set  their  blood  tingling  with  his  own 
strange  fear.  Many  times  had  Wabigoon  seen 
his  faithful  comrade  in  moments  of  deadly 
peril  but  never,  even  when  the  Woongas  were 
close  upon  their  trail,  had  he  known  him  to 
take  them  as  seriously  as  he  did  the  ascent  of 
this  mountain.  Every  few  steps  Mukoki 
paused,  listening  and  watchful.  Not  the 
smallest  twig  broke  under  his  moccasined  feet; 
the  movement  of  the  smallest  bird,  the  trem 
bling  of  a  bush,  the  scurry  of  a  rabbit  halted 
him,  rigid,  his  rifle  half  to  shoulder.  And  Rod 
and  Wabigoon  soon  become  filled  with  this 
same  panic-stricken  fear.  What  terrible  dread 
was  it  that  filled  Mukoki's  soul?  Had  he  seen 
something  of  which  he  had  not  told  them? 
Did  he  think  something  which  he  had  not  re 
vealed? 

Foot  by  foot  the  three  came  to  the  top  of  the 
ridge.    There  Mukoki  straightened  himself, 


176  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

and  stood  erect.  There  were  no  signs  of  a  liw 
ing  creature  about  them.  Down  in  the  dip 
nestled  the  little  lake,  gleaming  in  the  midday 
sun.  They  could  make  out  the  debris  of  the 
burned  cabin  in  which  they  had  passed  their 
hunting  season,  and  close  to  this  was  the  pack 
which  Mukoki  had  dropped  there  the  night 
before.  No  one  had  molested  it.  Wabi's  face 
relaxed.  Rod,  breathing  easier,  laughed 
softly.  What  had  there  been  to  fear?  He 
glanced  questioningly  at  Mukoki. 

"There  rocks,  there  tree,"  said  the  old  war 
rior,  in  answer  to  Rod's  glance,  "down  there 
went  scream!"  He  pointed  far  out  across  the 
plain. 

Wabi  had  gone  to  the  tree. 

"See  here,  Rod!"  he  cried.  "By  George,  this 
was  a  close  shave!"  He  pointed  to  a  tiny  hole 
freshly  made  in  the  smooth  white  surface  of 
(the  tree  as  the  others  came  up.  "There — stand 
there,  Mukoki,  back  to  the  tree,  as  you  said 
you  were  when  the  shot  was  fired.  Great 
Ca3sar,  that  fellow  had  a  dead  line  on  your 
head — two  inches  high!  No  wonder  it  made 


THE    CRY    IN    THE    CHASM         177 

you  think  the  scream  of  a  lynx  was  something 
else!" 

"No  lynx,"  said  Mukoki,  his  face  darken 
ing. 

"Shame  on  you,  Mukyl"  laughed  Wabi- 
goon.  "Don't  get  angry.  I  won't  say  it  agair; 
if  it  makes  you  mad." 

Rod  had  drawn  his  hunting-knife  and  was 
prodding  the  point  of  it  in  the  bullet  hole. 

"I  can  feel  the  ball,"  he  said.  "It's  not  in 
more  than  an  inch." 

"That's  curious,"  exclaimed  Wabigoon, 
coming  close  beside  him.  "It  ought  to  be  half 
way  through  the  tree  at  least!  Eh,  Muky?  I 
don't  believe  it  would  have  hurt — " 

He  stopped.  Rod  had  turned  with  a  sudden 
excited  cry.  He  held  out  his  knife,  tip  up 
ward,  and  pointed  to  it  with  the  index  finger 
of  his  free  hand.  Wabi's  eyes  fell  on  the  tip  of 
the  blade.  Mukoki  stared.  For  a  full  half 
ininute  the  three  stood  in  speechless  amaze 
ment.  Clinging  to  the  knife  tip  was  a  tiny  fleck 
of  yellow,  gleaming  lustrously  in  the  sun  as 
Rod  slowly  turned  the  handle  of  his  weapon-1 


178  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

"Another— gold— bullet !" 

The  words  fell  from  Wabi's  lips  very 
slowly,  and  so  low  that  they  were  scarce  above 
a  whisper.  Mukoki  seemed  to  have  ceased 
breathing.  Rod's  eyes  met  the  old  warrior's. 

"What  does  it  mean?" 

Wabi  had  pulled  his  knife  and  was  digging 
into  the  tree.  A  few  deep  cuts  and  the  golden 
bullet  lay  exposed  to  view. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  repeated  the  white 
youth. 

Again  he  addressed  his  question  to  Mukoki. 

"Man  who  shoot  bear — heem  no  dead,"  re 
plied  the  old  pathfinder.  "Same  gun,  same 
gold,  same — " 

"Same  what?" 

A  strange  gleam  came  for  an  instant  into 
Mukoki's  eyes,  and  without  finishing  he 
turned  and  pointed  across  the  narrow  plain 
that  lay  between  them  and  the  mysterious 
chasm  which  they  were  to  follow  in  theii 
search  for  treasure. 

"Cry  went  there  1"  he  said  shortly. 

"Te  *le  chasm!"  said  Wabi. 


THE    CRY   IN   THE    CHASM         179 

"To  the  chasm!"  repeated  Rod. 

Impelled  by  the  same  thought  the  three  ad 
venturers  went  toward  the  rocks  from  which 
the  shot  had  been  fired.  Surely  they  would  dis 
cover  some  sign  there,  or  lower  down  upon  the 
plain,  where  the  melting  snows  had  softened 
the  earth.  Mukoki  led  in  the  search,  and  foot 
by  foot  they  examined  the  spot  where  the  mys 
terious  marksman  must  have  stood  when  he 
sent  his  golden  bullet  so  close  to  the  Indian's 
head. 

But  not  a  trace  of  his  presence  had  he  left 
behind.  Working  abreast,  the  three  began  the 
descent  of  the  ridge.  Hardly  had  they  covered 
a  third  of  the  distance  to  the  plain  when  Wnbi, 
who  was  trailing  between  Rod  and  the  old  In 
dian,  called  out  that  he  had  made  a  discov 
ery.  Mukoki  had  already  reached  him  when 
Rod  came  up,  and  the  two  were  gazing  silently 
at  something  fluttering  from  a  bush. 

"Lynx  hair!"  cried  Rod.  "A  lynx  has  been 
this  way!"  He  could  not  entirely  conceal  the 
triumph  in  his  voice.  He  had  been  right  in 
his  conjecture  of  the  night  before,  the  cry  that 


i8o  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

had  frightened  Mukoki  had  been  made  by  a 
lynx! 

"Yes,  a  lynx  has  been  this  way,  a  lynx  four 
feet  high,"  said  Wabigoon  quietly,  and  the 
touch  of  raillery  in  his  voice  assured  Rod  that 
he  had  still  other  lessons  to  learn  in  the  life 
of  this  big  wilderness.  "Lynx  don't  grow  that 
big,  Rod!" 

"Then  it's — "  Rod  feared  to  go  on. 

"Lynx  fur.  That's  just  what  it  is.  Whoever 
fired  at  Mukoki  last  night  was  dressed  in 
skins !  Now,  can  you  tell  us  what  that  means?" 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer  Wabigoon 
resumed  his  search.  But  the  mountain  side 
gave  no  further  evidence.  Not  a  footprint 
was  found  upon  the  plain.  If  the  mysterious 
person  who  had  fired  the  golden  bullet  had 
leaped  from  the  mountain  top  into  space  he 
could  have  left  no  fewer  traces  behind  him. 
At  the  end  of  an  hour  Rod  and  his  companions 
returned  to  the  canoe,  carried  their  loads  to 
the  pack  in  the  dip,  and  prepared  dinner. 
Their  suspense  and  fear,  and  specially  Mu- 
koki's  dread,  were  in  a  large  measure  gone. 


THE   CRY   IN   THE   CHASM        i&i 

But  at  the  same  time  they  were  more  hope 
lessly  mystified  than  ever.  That  there  was  dan 
ger  ahead  of  them,  that  the  menace  of  golden 
bullets  was  actual  and  thrilling,  all  three  were 
well  agreed,  but  the  sunlight  of  day  and  a  lit 
tle  sound  reasoning  had  dispelled  their  half 
superstitious  terrors  of  the  previous  night  and 
they  began  to  face  the  new  situation  with  their 
former  confidence. 

"We  can't  let  this  delay  us,"  said  Wabi,  as 
they  ate  their  dinner.  "By  night  we  ought  to 
be  in  our  old  camp  at  the  head  of  the  chasm, 
where  we  held  the  Woongas  at  bay  last  winter. 
The  sooner  we  get  out  of  the  way  of  these 
golden  bullets  the  better  it  will  be  for  us !" 

Mukoki  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Gold  bullet  follow,  I  guess  so,"  he  grunted 
"Cry  went  there — to  chasm!" 

"I  don't  believe  this  fellow,  whoever  he  is, 
will  hang  to  our  trail,"  continued  Wabi,  giv 
ing  Rod  a  suggestive  look.  A  few  :/noments 
later  he  found  an  opportunity  to  whisper, 
"We've  got  to  get  that  cry  out  of  Muky's  head, 
Rod,  or  we'll  never  find  our  gold!" 


THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

When  Mukoki  had  gone  to  arrange  his  pack 
the  young  Indian  spoke  earnestly  to  his  com 
panion. 

"Muky  isn't  afraid  of  bullets,  either  gold  or 
lead;  he  isn't  afraid  of  any  danger  on  earth. 
But  that  cry  haunts  him.  He  is  trying  not  to 
let  us  know,  yet  it  haunts  him  just  the  same. 
Do  you  know  what  he  is  thinking?  No?  Well, 
I  do!  He  is  superstitious,  like  the  rest  of  his 
race,  and  the  two  gold  bullets,  the  terrible 
cries,  and  the  fact  that  we  found  no  tracks 
upon  the  plain  are  all  carrying  him  toward 
one  conclusion,  that  the  strange  thing  that 
fired  at  him  is — " 

Wabigoon  paused  and  wiped  his  iace,  and 
it  was  easy  for  Rod  to  see  that  he  was  sup 
pressing  some  unusual  excitement. 

"What  does  he  think  it  is?" 

"I'm  not  sure,  not  quite  sure,  yet,"  went  on 
the  Indian  youth.  "But  listen!  It  is  a  legend 
in  Mukoki's  tribe,  and  always  has  been,  that 
once  in  every  so  many  generations  they  are 
visited  by  a  terrible  warrior  sent  by  the  Great 
Spirit  who  takes  sacrifice  of  them,  a  sacrifice 


THE   CRY   IN    THE    CHASM         183 

of  human  life,  because  of  a  great  wrong  that 
was  once  done  by  their  people.  And  this  war 
rior,  though  invisible,  has  a  voice  that  makes 
the  mountains  quake  and  the  rivers  stand  still 
with  fear,  and  in  his  great  bow  he  shoots 
.shafts  that  are  made  of  gold!  Do  you  under 
stand?  Last  night  I  heard  Mukoki  talking 
about  it  in  his  sleep.  Either  we  must  hear  this 
cry,  and  find  out  more  about  it,  or  hurry  to  a 
place  where  it  won't  be  heard  again.  Golden 
bullets  and  cries  and  Mukoki's  superstitions 
are  going  to  be  worse  than  Woongas  if  we 
don't  watch  out!" 

"But  the  whole  thing  is  as  plain  as  day!"  -de 
clared  Rod  in  astonishment.  "A  man  shot  at 
the  bear,  and  the  same  man  shot  at  Mukoki, 
and  he  fired  gold  each  time.  Surely — " 

"It's  not  the  man  part  of  it,"  interrupted  the 
other.  "It's  the  cry.  There,  Mukoki  has  his 
pack  ready.  Let's  start  for  the  chasm  at  once!" 

This  time  the  boys  had  a  heavier  burden 
than  usual,  for  in  the  canoe  they  placed  one  of 
the  two  loads  carried  by  Mukoki,  and  conse 
quently  their  progress  toward  the  chasm  was 


1 84  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

much  slower  than  that  across  the  plain,  it  was 
late  in  the  afternoon  when  they  reached  the 
break  that  led  into  the  chasm,  and  as  they  cau 
tiously  made  the  descent  now  Rod  thought  of 
the  thrilling  pursuit  of  the  Woonga  horde, 
and  how  a  few  weeks  before  they  had  discov 
ered  this  break  just  in  time  for  Wabi  and  him 
to  save  their  lives,  and  that  of  the  wounded 
Mukoki.  It  was  with  a  feeling  almost  of  awe 
that  the  three  adventurers  penetrated  deeper 
and  deeper  into  the  silent  gloom  of  this  mys 
tery-filled  gulch  between  the  mountains,  and 
when  they  reached  the  bottom  they  set  their 
loads  down  without  speaking,  their  eyes  rov 
ing  over  the  black  walls  of  rock,  their  hearts 
throbbing  a  little  faster  with  excitement. 

For  here,  at  this  break  in  the  mountain,  be 
gan  the  romantic  trail  drawn  by  men  long 
dead,  the  trail  that  led  to  a  treasure  of  gold. 

As  the  three  sat  in  silence,  the  gloom  in  the 
chasm  thickened.  The  sun  had  passed  beyond 
the  southwestern  forests,  and  through  the  nar 
row  rift  between  the  mountain  walls  there  fell 
but  the  ebbing  light  of  day,  dissolving  itself 


THE   CRY   IN   THE   CHASM        185 

into  the  shadows  of  dusk  as  it  struggled  weakly 
in  the  cavernous  depths.  For  a  few  minutes 
this  swift  fading  of  day  into  night  gripped  the 
adventurers  in  its  spell.  What  did  the  lonely 
solitudes  of  that  chasm  hold  fo.r  them?  Where 
would  they  lead  them?  To  Rod's  mind  there 
came  a  picture  of  the  silver  fox  and  a  thought 
of  his  dream,  when  for  a  few  miles  he  had  ex 
plored  the  mysteries  of  this  strange,  sunless 
world  shut  in  by  rock  walls.  Again  he  saw  the 
dancing  skeletons,  heard  the  rattle  of  their 
bones,  and  watched  the  wonderful  dream-bat 
tle  that  had  led  him  to  the  birch-bark  map. 
Wabigoon,  his  eyes  gleaming  in  the  gathering 
darkness,  thought  of  their  flight  from  the  out 
law  savages,  and  Mukoki — 

The  white  youth  had  turned  a  little  to  look 
at  the  old  warrior.  Mukoki  sat  as  rigid  as  £ 
pillar  of  stone  an  arm's  reach  from  him.  Head 
erect,  arms  tense,  his  eyes  gleaming  strangely, 
he  stared  straight  out  into  the  gloom  between 
the  chasm  walls.  Rod  shivered.  He  knew, 
knew  without  questioning,  that  Mukoki  was 
thinking  of  the  cry! 


186  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

And  at  that  instant  there  floated  up  from  the 
black  chaos  ahead  a  sound,  a  sound  low  and 
weird,  like  the  moaning  of  a  winter's  wind 
through  the  pine  tops,  swelling,  advancing, 
until  it  ended  in  a  shriek — a  shriek  that  echoed 
and  reechoed  between  the  chasm  walls,  dying 
away  in  a  wail  that  froze  the  blood  of  the 
three  who  sat  and  listened! 


CHAPTER  XII 

WABI  MAKES  A  STRANGE  DISCOVERY 

MUKOKI  broke  the  silence  which  fol 
lowed  the  terrible  cry.  With  a  chok 
ing  sound,  as  if  some  unseen  hand 
were  clutching  at  his  throat,  he  slipped  from 
the  rock  upon  which  he  was  sitting  and 
crouched  behind  it,  his  rifle  gleaming  faintly 
as  he  leveled  it  down  the  chasm.  There  came 
the  warning  click  of  Wabigoon's  gun,  and  the 
young  Indian  hunched  himself  forward  until 
he  was  no  more  than  an  indistinct  shadow  in 
the  fast-deepening  gloom  of  night.  Only  Rod 
Btill  sat  erect.  For  a  moment  his  heart  seemed 
to  stand  still.  Then  something  leaped  into  his 
brain  and  spread  like  fire  through  his  veins, 
calling  him  to  his  feet,  trembling  with  the 
knowledge  of  what  that  cry  had  told  him!  It 
was  not  a  lesson  from  the  wilderness  that  Rod^ 
crick  Drew  was  learning  now.  As  fast  as  the 

187 


i88  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

mind  could  travel  he  had  gone  far  back  into 
the  strife  and  misery  and  madness  of  civiliza 
tion,  and  there  he  found  the  language  of  that 
fearful  cry  floating  up  the  chasm.  He  had 
heard  it  once,  twice — yes,  again  and  again,  and 
the  memory  of  it  had  burned  deep  down  into 
his  soul.  He  turned  to  his  companions,  trying 
to  speak,  but  the  horror  that  had  first  filled 
Mukoki  now  fastened  itself  on  him,  and  his 
tongue  was  lifeless. 

"A  madman!" 

Wabi's  fingers  dug  into  his  arm  like  the 
claws  of  a  bear. 

"A  what!" 

"A  madman!"  repeated  Rod,  trying  to  speak 
more  calmly.  "The  man  who  shot  the  bear 
and  fired  at  Mukoki  and  who  uses  gold  bullets 
in  his  gun  is  mad — raving  mad!  I  have  heard 
those  screams  before — in  the  Eloise  insane 
.asylum,  near  Detroit.  He's — " 

The  words  were  frozen  on  his  lips.  Again 
the  cry  echoed  up  the  chasm.  It  was  nearer 
this  time,  and  with  a  sobbing,  terrified  sound, 
Something  that  Wabi  had  never  heard  fall 


WABI    MAKES   A   DISCOVERY      189 

from  Mukoki's  lips  before,  the  old  warrior 
clung  to  Roderick's  arm.  Darkness  hid  the 
terror  in  his  face,  but  the  white  boy  could  feel 
it  in  the  grip  of  his  hands. 

"Mad,  raving  mad!"  he  cried.  Suddenly  he 
gripped  Mukoki  fiercely  by  the  shoulders,  and 
as  Wabigoon  crouched  forward,  ready  to  fire 
at  the  first  movement  in  the  gloom,  he  thrust 
the  butt  of  his  rifle  in  his  back.  "Don't  shoot!" 
he  commanded.  "Mukoki,  don't  be  a  fool! 
That's  a  man  back  there,  a  man  who  has  suf 
fered  and  starved,  starved,  mind  you! — until 
he's  mad,  stark  mad!  It  would  be  worse  than 
murder  to  kill  him!" 

He  stopped,  and  Mukoki  drew  back  a  step, 
breathing  deeply. 

"Heem — starve — no  eat — gone  bad  dog?" 
he  questioned  softly.  In  an  instant  Wabi  was 
at  his  side. 

"That's  it,  Muky — he's  gone  bad  dog,  just 
like  that  husky  of  ours  who  went  bad  because 
he  swallowed  a  fish  bone.  White  men  some 
times  go  bad  dog  when  they  are  thirsty  and 
starving!" 


190  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

"Our  Great  Spirit  tells  us  that  we  must 
never  harm  them,"  added  Rod.  "We  put  them 
in  big  houses,  larger  than  all  of  the  houses  at 
the  Post  together,  and  feed  them  and  clothe 
them  and  care  for  them  all  their  lives.  Are 
you  afraid  of  a  bad  dog,  Muky,  or  of  a  man 
who  has  gone  bad  dog?" 

"Bad  dog  bite  deep — mebby  so  we  kill 
heem!" 

"But  we  don't  kill  them  until  we  have  to," 
persisted  the  quick-witted  Wabigoon,  who  saw 
the  way  in  which  Rod's  efforts  were  being  di 
rected.  "Didn't  we  save  our  husky  by  taking 
the  fish  bone  out  of  his  throat?  We  must  save 
this  bad  dog,  because  he  is  a  white  man,  like 
Rod.  He  thinks  all  men  are  his  enemies,  just 
as  a  bad  dog  thinks  all  other  dogs  are  his  ene 
mies.  So  we  must  be  careful  and  not  give  him 
a  chance  to  shoot  us  but  we  mustn't  harm 
him!" 

"It  will  be  best  if  we  don't  let  him  know  we 
are  in  the  chasm,"  said  Rod,  still  speaking  for 
Mukoki's  benefit.  "He's  probably  going  out 
on  the  plain,  and  must  climb  up  this  break  in 


WABI    MAKES    A   DISCOVERY      191 

the  mountain.  Let's  move  our  stuff  a  little  out 
of  his  path." 

As  the  two  boys  went  to  the  canoe  their 
hands  touched.  Wabi  was  startled  by  the  cold 
ness  of  his  friend's  fingers. 

"We've  fixed  Mukoki,"  he  whispered.  "He 
won't  shoot.  But — " 

"We  may  have  to,"  replied  Rod.  "That  will 
be  up  to  you  and  me,  Wabi.  We  must  use 
judgment,  and  unless  it's  a  case  of  life  or 
death—" 

"Ugh!"  shuddered  the  young  Indian. 

"If  he  doesn't  discover  our  presence  to-night 
we  will  get  out  of  his  way  to-morrow,"  con 
tinued  Rod.  "No  fire — no  talking.  We  must 
be  as  still  as  death!" 

For  some  time  after  their  outfit  was  con 
cealed  among  the  rocks  Wabigoon  sat  with  his 
mouth  close  to  the  old  pathfinder's  ear.  Then 
he  returned  to  Rod. 

"Muky  understands.  He  has  never  seen  or 
heard  of  a  madman,  and  it  is  hard  for  him  to 
comprehend.  But  he  knows — now,  and  under 
stands  what  he  must  do." 


IQ2  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

"Sh-h-h-h-h!" 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  thought  I  heard  a  sound!"  breathed  Rod 
"Did  you  hear  it?" 

"No." 

The  two  listened.  There  was  an  awesome 
silence  in  the  chasm  now,  broken  only  by  the 
distant  murmur  of  running  water,  a  strange, 
chilling  stillness  in  which  the  young  hunters 
could  hear  the  excited  beating  of  their  own 
hearts.  To  Roderick  the  minutes  passed  like 
so  many  hours.  His  ears  were  keyed  to  the 
highest  tension  of  expectancy,  his  eyes  stared 
into  the  gloom  beyond  them  until  they  ached 
with  his  efforts  to  see.  At  every  instant  he  ex 
pected  to  hear  again  that  terrible  scream,  this 
time  very  near,  and  he  prepared  himself  to 
meet  it.  But  the  seconds  passed,  and  then  the 
minutes,  and  still  there  came  no  quick  running 
of  mad  footsteps,  no  repetition  of  the  cry.  Had 
the  madman  turned  the  other  way?  Was  he 
plunging  deeper  into  the  blackness  of  this  mys 
terious  world  of  his  between  the  mountains? 

"I  guess  I  was  mistaken,"  he  whispered 


WABI   MAKES   A   DISCOVERY      193 

softly  to  Wabigoon.  "Shall  we  get  out  our 
blankets?" 

"We  might  as  well  make  ourselves  comfort 
able,"  replied  the  young  Indian.  "You  sit  here, 
and  listen  while  I  undo  the  pack." 

He  went  noiselessly  to  Mukoki,  who  was 
leaning  against  the  pack,  and  Rod  could  hear 
them  fumbling  at  the  straps  on  the  bundle. 
After  a  little  Wabi  returned  and  the  two  boys 
spread  out  their  blankets  beside  the  rock  upon 
which  they  had  been  sitting.  But  there  was  no 
thought  of  sleep  in  the  mind  of  either,  though 
both  were  dead  tired  from  their  long  day's 
work.  They  sat  closer  together,  shoulder 
touching  shoulder,  and  unknown  to  his  com 
panion  Roderick  drew  his  revolver,  cocked  it 
silently  and  placed  it  where  he  could  feel  the 
cold  touch  of  its  steel  between  his  fingers.  He 
knew  that  he  was  the  only  one  of  the  three  who 
fully  realized  the  horror  of  their  situation. 

Mukoki's  mind,  simple  in  its  reasoning  of 
things  that  did  not  belong  to  the  wilderness^ 
had  accepted  the  assurances  and  explanations 
of  Rod  and  Wabigoon.  Wabi,  half-bred  in 


194  THE    GOLD   HUNTERS 

the  wild,  felt  alarm  only  in  the  sense  of  pnys- 
ical  peril.  It  was  different  with  the  white 
youth.  What  is  there  in  civilization  that  sends 
the  chill  of  terror  to  one's  heart  more  quickly 
than  the  presence  of  a  human  being  who  has 
gone  mad?  And  this  madman  was  at  large! 
At  that  very  instant  he  might  be  listening  to 
their  breathing  and  their  whispered  words 
half  a  dozen  feet  away;  any  moment  might  see 
the  blackness  take  form  and  the  terrible  thing 
hurl  itself  at  their  throats.  Rod,  unlike  Wabi- 
goon,  knew  that  the  powers  of  this  strange 
creature  of  the  chasm  were  greater  than  their 
own,  that  it  could  travel  with  the  swiftness 
and  silence  of  an  animal  through  the  darkness, 
that  perhaps  it  could  smell  them  and  feel  their 
presence  as  it  passed  on  its  way  to  the  plain. 
He  was  anxious  now  to  hear  the  cry  again. 
What  was  the  meaning  of  this  silence?  Was 
the  madman  already  conscious  of  their  pres 
ence?  Was  he  creeping  upon  them  at  that  mo 
ment,  as  still  'as  the  black  shadows  that  shut  in 
their  vision?  His  mind  was  working  in  such 


WABI   MAKES   A   DISCOVERY      195 

vivid  imaginings  that  he  was  startled  when 
Wabi  prodded  him  gently  in  the  side. 

"Look  over  there — across  the  chasm,"  he 
whispered.  "See  that  glow  on  the  mountain 
wall?" 

"The  moon!"  replied  Rod. 

"Yes.  I've  been  watching  it,  and  it's  creep 
ing  down  and  down.  The  moon  is  going  to 
swing  across  this  break  in  the  mountains.  In 
fifteen  minutes  we  shall  be  able  to  see." 

"It  won't  swing  across  so  much  as  it  will 
come  up  in  line  with  us,"  replied  Rod. 
"Watch  how  that  light  is  lengthening!  We 
shall  be  able  to  see  for  several  hours." 

He  started  to  rise  to  his  feet  but  fell  back 
with  an  astonished  cry.  For  a  third  time  there 
came  the  mad  hunter's  scream,  this  time  far 
above  and  beyond  them,  floating  down  from 
the  distance  of  the  moon-lit  plain! 

"He  passed  us!"  exclaimed  Wabi.  "He 
passed  us — and  we  didn't  hear  him!"  He 
leaped  to  his  feet  and  his  voice  rose  excitedly 
until  it  rang  in  a  hundred  echoes  between  the 


196  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

chasm  walls.   "He  passed  us,  and  we  didn't 
hear  him!" 

Mukoki's  voice  came  strangely  from  out  of 
the  gloom. 

"No  man  do  that!  No  man — no  man — " 

"Hush!"  commanded  Rod.  "Now  is  oui 
time,  boys !  Quick,  get  everything  to  the  creek. 
He's  half  a  mile  out  on  the  plain  and  we  can 
get  away  before  he  comes  back.  I'd  rather  risk 
a  few  rocks  than  another  one  of  his  golden 
bullets!" 

"SohadI!"criedWabi. 

As  if  their  lives  depended  on  their  exertions 
the  three  set  to  work.  Mukoki  staggered  ahead 
over  the  rocks  with  his  burden  while  the  boys 
followed  with  the  light  canoe  and  the  remain 
ing  pack.  Their  previous  experiences  in  the 
chasm  had  taught  them  where  to  approach  the 
stream,  and  ten  minutes  later  they  were  at  its 
side.  Without  a  moment's  hesitation  Mukoki 
dropped  his  pack  and  plunged  in.  The  edge 
of  the  moon  was  just  appearing  over  the  south 
ern  mountain  wall  and  by  its  light  Rod  and 
Wabigoon  could  see  that  the  water  of  the  creek 


WABI    MAKES   A   DISCOVERY      197 

was  rushing  with  great  swiftness  as  high  as  the 
old  warrior's  knees. 

"No  ver'  deep,"  said  the  Indian.  "Rocks — " 

"I  followed  this  creek  for  half  a  dozen  miles 
and  its  bottom  is  as  smooth  as  a  floor!"  inter- 
rup,ted  Rod.  "There's  no  danger  of  rocks  for 
that  distance!" 

He  made  no  effort  now  to  suppress  the 
pleasure  which  he  felt  at  the  escape  from  their 
unpleasant  situation.  Mukoki  steadied  the 
canoe  as  it  was  placed  in  the  water,  and  was 
the  last  to  climb  into  it,  taking  his  usual  posi 
tion  in  the  stern  where  he  could  use  to  best  ad 
vantage  the  powerful  sweeps  of  his  paddle.  In 
an  instant  the  swift  current  of  the  little  stream 
caught  the  birch  bark  and  carried  it  along 
with  remarkable  speed.  After  several  futile 
strokes  of  his  paddle  Wabi  settled  back  upon 
'his  heels. 

"It's  all  up  to  you,  Muky,"  he  called  softly. 
'"I  can't  do  a  thing  from  the  bow.  The  cur 
rent  is  too  swift.  All  you  can  do  is  to  keep  her 
nose  straight." 

The  light  of  the  moon  was  now  filling  the. 


IQ8  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

chasm  and  the  adventurers  could  see  distinctly 
for  a  hundred  yards  or  more  ahead  of  them. 
Eaeh  minute  seemed  to  add  to  the  swiftness 
and  size  of  the  stream,  and  by  the  use  of  his 
paddle  Wabi  found  that  it  was  constantly 
deepening,  until  he  could  no  longer  touch  bot 
tom.  Rod's  eyes  were  ceaselessly  on  the  alert 
for  familiar  signs  along  the  shore.  He  was 
sure  that  he  knew  when  they  passed  the  spot 
where  he  killed  the  silver  fox,  and  he  called 
Wabi's  attention  to  it.  Then  the  rocks  sped 
past  with  increasing  swiftness,  and  as  the  moon 
rose  higher  the  three  could  see  where  the  over 
flowing  torrent  sent  out  little  streams  that 
twisted  and  dashed  themselves  into  leaping 
foam  in  the  wildness  of  the  chasm  beyond  the 
main  channel.  These  increased  in  number  and 
size  as  the  journey  continued,  until  Mukoki 
began  to  feel  the  influence  of  their  currents 
and  called  on  Wabi  and  Rod  for  assistance. 
Suddenly  Rod  gave  a  muffled  shout  as  they 
shot  past  a  mass  of  huge  boulders  on  their 
right. 

"That's    where    I    camped    the    night    I 


WABI    MAKES   A   DISCOVERY      199 

dreamed  of  the  skeletons!"  he  cried.  "I  don't 
know  what  the  stream  is  like  from  here  on.  Be 
careful!" 

Wabi  gave  a  terrific  lunge  with  his  paddle 
and  the  cone  of  a  black  rock  hissed  past  half 
a  canoe  length  away. 

"It's  as  black  as  a  dungeon  ahead,  and  I  can 
hear  rocks!"  he  shouted.  "Bring  her  in  if  you 
can,  Muky,  bring  her  in!" 

There  came  the  sudden  sharp  crack  of  snap 
ping  wood  and  a  low  exclamation  of  alarm  fell 
from  Mukoki.  His  paddle  had  broken  at  the 
shaft.  In  a  flash  Rod  realized  what  had  hap 
pened  and  passed  back  his  own,  but  that  mo 
ment's  loss  of  time  proved  almost  fatal.  Freed 
of  its  guiding  hand  the  birch  bark  swung 
broadside  to  the  current,  and  at  the  same  time 
Wabi's  voice  rose  in  a  shrill  cry  of  warning, 

"It's  not  rocks,  it's  a  whirlpool !"  he  yelled. 
"The  other  shore,  swing  her  out,  swing  her 
out!" 

He  dug  his  own  paddle  deep  down  into  the 
racing  current  and  from  behind  Mukoki  ex 
erted  his  most  powerful  efforts,  but  it  was  too 


eoo  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

late!  A  hundred  feet  ahead  the  stream  tore 
between  two  huge  rocks  as  big  as  houses,  and 
just  beyond  these  Rod  caught  a  glimpse  of 
frothing  water  churning  itself  milk-white  in 
the  moonlight.  But  it  was  only  a  glimpse. 
With  a  velocity  that  was  startling  the  canoe 
shot  between  the  rocks,  and  as  a  choking  sea 
of  spray  leaped  into  their  faces  Wabigoon's 
voice  came  back  again  in  a  loud  command  for 
the  others  to  hang  to  the  gunwales  of  their 
frail  craft.  For  an  instant,  in  which  his 
thoughts  seemed  to  have  left  him,  a  roaring 
din  filled  Rod's  ears;  a  white,  churning  mist 
hid  everything  but  his  own  arms  and  clutching 
hands,  and  then  the  birch  bark  darted  with  the 
sudden  impetus  of  a  freshly-shot  arrow  around 
the  jagged  edge  of  the  boulder — and  he  could 
see  again. 

Here  was  the  whirlpool!  More  than  once 
Wabi  had  told  him  of  these  treacherous  traps 
made  by  the  mountain  streams,  and  of  the 
almost  certain  death  that  awaited  the  unlucky 
canoe  man  drawn  into  their  smothering  em 
brace.  There  was  no  angry  raging  of  the 


WABI    MAKES    A   DISCOVERY      201 

flood  here;  at  first  it  seemed  to  Rod  that  they 
were  floating  almost  without  motion  upon  a 
black,  lazy  sea  that  made  neither  sound  nor 
riffle.  Scarce  half  a  dozen  canoe  lengths 
away  he  saw  the  white  center  of  the  mael 
strom,  and  there  came  to  his  ears  above  the 
dash  of  the  stream  between  the  two  great 
rocks  a  faint  hissing  sound  that  curdled  the 
blood  in  his  veins,  the  hissing  of  the  treach 
erous  undertow  that  would  soon  drag  them  to 
their  death!  ID  the  passing  of  a  thought  there 
flashed  into  the  white  youth's  mind  a  story 
that  Mukoki  had  told  him  of  an  Indian  who 
had  been  lost  in  one  of  these  whirlpools  of 
fhe  spring  floods,  and  whose  body  had  been 
tossed  and  pitched  about  in  its  center  for  more 
than  a  week.  For  the  first  time  the  power  of 
speech  came  to  him. 

"Shall  we  jump?"  he  shouted. 

"Hang  to  the  canoe." 

Wabi  fairly  shrieked  the  words,  and  yet  as 
he  spoke  he  drew  himself  half  erect,  as  if 
about  to  leap  into  the  flood.  The  momentum 
gathered  in  its  swift  rush  between  the  rocks 


202  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

had  carried  their  frail  craft  almost  to  the 
outer  edge  of  the  deadly  trap,  and  as  this 
momentum  ceased  and  the  canoe  yielded  to 
the  sucking  forces  of  the  maelstrom  the  young 
Indian  shrieked  out  his  warning  again. 

"Hang  to  the  canoe!" 

The  words  were  scarcely  out  of  his  mouth 
when  he  stood  erect  and  launched  himself  like 
an  animal  into  the  black  depths  toward  shore. 
With  a  terrified  cry  Rod  rose  to  his  knees. 
In  another  instant  he  would  have  plunged 
recklessly  after  Wabi,  but  Mukoki's  voice 
sounding  behind  him,  snarling  in  its  fierce 
ness,  stopped  him. 

"Hang  to  canoe!" 

There  came  a  jerk.  The  bow  of  the  canoe 
swung  inward  and  the  stern  whirled  so 
quickly  that  Rod,  half  kneeling,  nearly  lost 
his  balance.  In  that  instant  he  turned  his  face 
and  saw  the  old  warrior  standing,  as  Wabi- 
goon  had  done  before  him,  and  as  Mukoki 
leaped  there  came  for  a  third  time  that  warn 
ing  cry: 

"Hang  to  canoe!'* 


WABI   MAKES   A  DISCOVERY      203 

And  Rod  hung.  He  knew  that  for  some 
reason  those  commands  were  meant  for  him, 
and  him  alone;  he  knew  that  the  desperate 
plunges  of  his  comrades  were  not  inspired  by 
cowardice  or  fear,  but  not  until  the  birch  bark 
ground  upon  the  shore  and  he  tumbled  out  in 
safety  did  he  fully  comprehend  what  had  hap 
pened.  Holding  the  rope  with  which  they 
tied  their  canoe,  Wabigoon  had  taken  a 
desperate  chance.  His  quick  mind  had 
leaped  like  a  flash  of  powder  to  their  last 
hope,  and  at  the  crucial  moment,  just  as  the 
momentum  of  the  birch  bark  gave  way  to  the 
whirling  forces  of  the  pool,  he  had  jumped 
a  good  seven  feet  toward  shore,  and  had  found 
bottom!  Another  twelve  inches  of  water 
under  him  and  all  would  have  been  lost. 

Wabigoon  stood  panting  and  dripping  wet, 
and  in  the  moonlight  his  face  was  as  white 
as  the  tub-like  spot  of  foam  out  in  the  center 
of  the  maelstrom. 

"That's  what  you  call  going  to  kingdom- 
come  and  getting  out  again!"  he  gasped. 
"Muky,  that  was  the  closest  shave  we've  ever 


204  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

had!  It  has  your  avalanche  beaten  to  a  fraz 
zle!" 

Mukoki  was  dragging  the  canoe  upon  the 
pebbly  shore,  and  still  overcome  by  the  sud 
denness  of  all  that  had  happened  Rod  went 
to  his  assistance. 

The  adventurers  now  discovered  them 
selves  in  a  most  interesting  situation.  The 
night  had  indeed  been  one  of  curious  and 
thrilling  happenings  for  them,  and  here  was  a 
pretty  climax  to  it  all!  They  had  escaped  the 
mad  hunter  by  running  into  the  almost  fatal 
grip  of  the  whirlpool,  and  now  they  had  es 
caped  the  perils  of  that  seething  death-trap 
by  plunging  into  a  tiny  rock-bound  prison 
which  seemed  destined  to  hold  them  for  all 
time,  or  at  least  until  the  floods  of  spring  sub- 
Sided.  Straight  above  them,  and  shutting 
them  in  entirely,  rose  precipitous  rock  walls. 
On  the  only  open  side  was  the  deadly  mael 
strom. 

Even  Mukoki  as  he  glanced  about  him  was 
struck  by  the  humor  of  their  situation,  and 
chuckled  softly. 


\VABI   MAKES   A   DISCOVERY      205 

Wabi  stood  with  his  hands  deep  in  his 
soaked  pockets,  facing  the  moonlit  walls. 
Then  he  turned  to  Rod,  and  grinned ;  then  he 
faced  the  whirlpool,  and  after  that  his  eyes 
swept  the  space  of  sky  above  them.  The  situa 
tion  was  funny,  at  first;  but  when  he  looked 
at  the  white  youth  again  the  smile  had  died 
out  of  his  face. 

"Wouldn't  that  madman  have  fun  if  he 
found  us  now!"  he  whispered. 

Mukoki  was  traveling  slowly  around  the 
rock  walls.  The  space  in  which  they  were 
confined  wasi  not  more  than  fifty  feet  in  di 
ameter,  and  there  was  not  even  a  crack  by 
means  of  which  a  squirrel  might  have  found 
exit.  The  prison  was  perfect.  The  old  path 
finder  came  back  and  sat  down  with  a  grunt. 

"We  might  as  well  have  supper  and  a  good 
sleep,"  suggested  Rod,  who  was  hungry. 
"Surely  we  need  fear  no  attack  from  beast  of 
man  to-night!" 

At  least  there  was  this  consolation,  and  the 
gold  hunters  ate  a  hearty  meal  of  cold  bear 
meat  and  prepared  for  slumber.  The  night 


206  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

was  unusually  warm,  and  both  Mukoki  and 
Wabigoon  hung  out  their  wet  clothes  to  dry 
while  they  slept  in  their  blankets.  Rod  did 
not  open  his  eyes  again  until  Wabi  awakened 
him  in  the  morning.  Both  Indians  were 
dressed  and  it  was  evident  that  they  had  been 
up  for  some  time.  When  Rod  went  to  the 
water  to  wash  himself  he  was  surprised  to 
find  all  of  their  supplies  repacked  in  the 
canoe,  as  though  their  journey  was  about  to 
be  resumed  immediately  after  breakfast,  and 
when  he  returned  to  where  Mukoki  and  Wa 
bigoon  had  placed  their  food  on  a  flat  stone 
in  the  center  of  what  he  had  regarded  as  their 
prison,  he  observed  that  both  of  his  com 
panions  were  in  an  unusually  cheerful  frame 
of  mind. 

"Looks  as  though  you  expected  to  get  out 
of  here  pretty  soon,"  he  said,  nodding  toward 
the  canoe. 

"So  we  do!"  responded  Wabi.  "We're 
going  to  take  a  swim  through  the  whirlpool!" 

He  laughed  at  the  incredulity  in  Rod's  face. 

"That  is,  we're  going  to  navigate  along  the 


WABI   MAKES   A   DISCOVERY      207 

edge  of  it,"  he  amended.  "Muky  and  I  have 
tied  together  every  bit  of  rope  and  strap  in  our 
outfit,  even  to  our  gun-slings,  and  we've  got  a 
piece  about  eighty  feet  long.  We'll  show  you 
how  to  use  it  after  breakfast." 

It  took  but  a  few  minutes  to  dispose  of  the 
rather  unappetizing  repast  of  cold  bear  meat, 
biscuits  and  water.  Wabi  then  led  the  way  to 
the  extreme  edge  of  the  great  rock  which 
formed  the  eastern  wall  of  their  prison, 
waded  in  the  water  to  his  knees,  and  directed 
Rod's  gaze  to  a  point  of  land  jutting  out  into 
the  stream  about  sixty  feet  beyond  the  rock. 

"If  we  can  reach  that,"  explained  Wabi, 
"we  can  portage  around  the  rest  of  the  whirl 
pool  to  the  main  channel.  The  water  is  very 
deep  along  the  edge  of  this  rock,  but  the  un 
dertow  doesn't  seem  to  have  any  great  force. 
I  believe  that  we  can  make  it.  The  experi 
ment  won't  be  a  dangerous  one  at  any  rate." 

The  canoe  was  now  dragged  to  the  edge  of 
the  rock  and  launched,  Mukoki  taking  his 
place  in  the  stern  while  Wabigoon  placed 
Rod  a  little  ahead  of  the  midship  rib. 


208  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

"You  must  paddle  on  your  left  side,  every 
minute  and  as  fast  as  you  can,"  advised  the 
young  Indian.  "I  am  to  remain  behind,  hold 
ing  one  end  of  this  rope,  so  that  if  you  are 
drawn  toward  the  maelstrom  I  can  pull  you 
back.  Understand?" 

"Yes — but  you.     How — " 

"Oh,  I'll  swim!"  said  Wabi  in  rank  bra 
vado.  "I  don't  mind  a  little  whirlpool  like 
that  at  all!" 

Mukoki  chuckled  in  high  humor,  and  Rod 
erick  asked  no  more  questions,  but  at  Wabi's 
command  dug  in  his  paddle  and  kept  at  it 
until  the  birch  bark  safely  made  the  point  of 
land  beyond  the  rock.  When  he  looked  back 
Wabi  had  tied  the  rope  around  his  body  and 
was  already  waist  deep  in  the  water.  At  a 
signal  from  Mukoki  the  young  Indian 
plunged  fearlessly  into  the  edge  of  the  whirl 
pool  and  like  a  great  floundering  fish  he  was 
quickly  pulled  across  to  safety.  Most  of  his 
clothes  had  been  brought  over  in  the  canoe, 
and  after  Wabigoon  had  exchanged  his  wet 
garments  for  these  the  adventurers  were  ready 


WABI    MAKES    A    DISCOVERY      209 

to  continue  their  journey  down  the  chasm.  A 
short  portage  brought  them  to  the  main  chan 
nel  of  the  stream,  where  they  once  more 
launched  their  birch  bark. 

"If  the  whole  trip  is  as  exciting  as  this  we'll 
never  reach  our  gold,"  said  Wabi,  as  they 
slipped  out  into  the  swift  current  "A  mad 
man,  a  whirlpool  and  a  prison,  all  in  one  night, 
is  almost  more  than  we  can  stand." 

"There's  a  good  deal  of  truth  in  the  old 
saying  that  it  never  rains  but  it  pours,"  replied 
Rod.  "Maybe  we'll  have  smooth  sailing  from 


now  on." 


"Mebby!"  grunted  the  old  pathfinder  from 
behind. 

Rod's  optimism  was  vindicated  for  that  day, 
at  least.  Until  noon  the  canoe  sped  swiftly 
down  the  chasm  without  mishap.  The 
stream,  to  which  each  mile  added  its  contri 
bution  of  flood  water  from  the  mountain  tops, 
increased  constantly  in  width  and  depth,  but 
only  now  and  then  was  there  a  rock  to 
threaten  their  progress,  and  no  driftwood  at 
all.  When  the  gold  seekers  landed  for  din- 


2io  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

ner  they  were  confident  of  two  things:  that 
they  had  passed  far  beyond  the  mad  hunter's 
reach,  and  were  very  near  to  the  first  water 
fall.  Memory  of  the  thrilling  experiences 
through  which  they  had  so  recently  run  the 
gauntlet  was  replaced  by  the  most  exciting 
anticipation  of  the  sound  and  sight  of  that  first 
waterfall,  which  was  so  vitally  associated  with 
their  search  for  the  lost  treasure.  This  time 
a  hearty  dinner  was  cooked,  and  it  took  more 
than  an  hour  to  prepare  and  eat  it 

When  the  journey  was  resumed  Mukoki 
placed  himself  in  the  bow,  his  sharp  eyes 
scanning  the  rocks  and  mountain  walls  ahead 
of  him.  Two  hours  after  the  start  he  gave  an 
exultant  exclamation,  and  raised  a  warning 
hand  above  his  head.  The  three  listened. 
Faintly  above  the  rush  of  the  swift  current 
there  came  to  their  ears  the  distant  rumble  of 
falling  water! 

Forgetful  now  of  the  madman  back  in  the 
chawn,  oblivious  of  everything  but  the  fact 
that  they  had  at  last  reached  the  first  of  the 
thre«  falls  which  were  to  lead  them  to  the 


WABI    MAKES   A   DISCOVERY      211 

gold,  Wabi  gave  a  whoop  that  echoed  and 
reechoed  between  the  mountain  walls,  and 
Rod  joined  him  with  all  the  power  of  his 
lungs.  Mukoki  grinned,  chuckled  in  his  curi« 
ous  way,  and  a  few  moments  later  signaled 
\Vabi  to  guide  the  canoe  ashore. 

"We  portage  here,"  he  explained.  "Cur* 
rent  swift  there — mebby  go  over  fall!" 

A  short  carry  of  two  or  three  hundred  yards 
brought  them  to  the  cataract.  It  was,  as  Mu 
koki  had  said  after  his  long  trip  of  explora 
tion  a  few  months  before,  a  very  small  fall, 
not  more  than  a  dozen  feet  in  height.  But 
over  it  there  was  now  rushing  a  thundering 
deluge  of  water.  An  easy  trail  led  to  the 
stream  below  it,  and  no  time  was  lost  in  get 
ting  under  way  again. 

Although  they  had  traveled  fully  forty 
miles  since  morning,  the  day  had  been  an  easy 
and  most  interesting  one  for  the  three  adven 
turers.  On  the  swift  current  of  the  chasm 
stream  they  had  worked  but  little,  and  the 
ceaseless  change  of  scenery  in  this  wonderful 
break  between  the  mountain  ridges  held  an 


212  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

ever-increasing  fascination  for  them.  Late  in 
the  afternoon  the  course  changed  from  its 
northeasterly  direction  to  due  north,  and  at 
this  point  there  was  an  ideal  spot  for  camping. 
Over  an  extent  of  an  acre  or  more  there  was  a 
sweeping  hollow  of  fine  white  sand,  with  great 
quantities  of  dry  wood  cluttering  the  edge  of 
the  depression. 

"That's  a  curious  spot!"  said  Wabi  as  they 
drew  up  their  canoe.  "Looks  like — " 

"A  lak»e,"  grunted  Mukoki.  "Long  time 
ago — a.  lake." 

"The  curve  of  the  stream  right  here  has 
fwept  up  so  much  sand  that  the  water  can't  get 
into  it,"  added  Rod,  looking  the  place  over. 

Wabi  had  gone  a  few  paces  back.  Sud 
denly  he  stopped,  and  with  a  half  shout  he 
gesticulated  excitedly  to  his  companions. 
Something  in  his  mariner  took  Rod  and  Mu 
koki  to  him  on  the  run. 

When  they  came  up  the  Indian  youth  stood 
mutely  pointing  at  something  in  the  sand. 

Clearly  imprinted  in  that  sand  was  the 
shape  of  a  human  foot,  a  foot  that  had  worn 


WABI   MAKES   A   DISCOVERY      213 

neither  boot  nor  moccasin  when  it  left  its  trail 
in  the  lake  bed,  but  which  was  as  naked  as  the 
quivering  hand  which  Wabigoon  now  held 
toward  it! 

And  from  that  single  footprint  the  eyes  of 
the  astonished  adventurers  traveled  quickly  to 
a  hundred  others,  until  it  seemed  to  them  that 
a  dozen  naked  savages  must  have  been  danc 
ing  in  these  sands  only  a  few  hours  before. 

And  Rod,  glancing  toward  the  driftwood, 
saw  something  else, — something  toward  which 
he  pointed,  speechless,  white  with  that  samt 
strange  excitement  that  had  taken  possession 
of  Wabigpon! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  THIRD  WATERFALL 

THE  others  followed  Rod's  arm.  Be 
hind  him  he  heard  the  gentle  click  of 
Wabigoon's  revolver  and  the  sharp,  vi 
cious  snap  of  the  safety  on  Mukoki's  rifle. 

From  beyond  the  driftwood  there  was  ris 
ing  a  thin  spiral  of  smoke  1 

"Whoever  they  are,  they  have  certainly 
seen  or  heard  us !"  said  Wabi,  after  they  had 
stood  in  silence  for  a  full  minute. 

"Unless  they  are  gone  from  camp,"  replied 
Rod  in  a  whisper. 

"Keep  eyes  open!"  warned  Mukoki  as  they 
advanced  cautiously  in  the  direction  of  the 
smoke.  "No  can  tell  what,  I  guess  so!" 

He  was  first  to  mount  the  driftwood,  and 
then  he  gave  vent  to  a  huge  grunt.  The  smoke 
was  rising  from  beside  a  charred  log  which 
was  heaped  half-way  up  its  side  with  ashes 

214 


THE   THIRD   WATERFALL         215 

and  earth.  In  a  flash  the  meaning  of  the  ash 
and  dirt  dawned  on  Rod  and  his  companions. 
The  fire  was  banked.  Those  who  had  built 
it  were  gone,  but  they  expected  to  return. 
The  naked  footprints  were  thick  about  the 
camp-fire,  and  close  to  one  end  of  the  charred 
log  were  scattered  a  number  of  bones.  One 
after  another  Mukoki  picked  up  several  of 
these  and  closely  examined  them.  While  Rod 
and  Wabigoon  were  still  gazing  about  them  in 
blank  astonishment,  half  expecting  attack 
from  a  savage  horde  at  any  moment,  the  old 
warrior  had  already  reached  a  conclusion,  and 
calling  to  his  companions  he  brought  their 
attention  to  the  tracks  in  the  sand. 

"Same  feet!"  he  exclaimed.  "One  man 
mak'  all  track!" 

"Impossible!"  cried  Wabi.  "There  are— 
thousands  of  them!" 

Mukoki  grunted  and  fell  upon  his  knees. 

"Heem  big  toe — right  foot — broke  some 
time.  Same  in  all  track.  See?" 

Disgusted  at  his  own  lack  of  observation 
Wabigoon  saw  at  once  that  the  old  pathfinder 


216  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

was  right.  The  joint  of  the  big  toe  on  the 
right  foot  was  twisted  fully  half  an  inch  out 
ward,  a  deformity  that  left  a  peculiar  impres 
sion  in  the  sand,  and  every  other  track  bore 
this  telltale  mark.  No  sooner  were  the  two 
boys  convinced  of  the  correctness  of  Mukoki's 
assertion  than  another  and  still  more  startling 
surprise  was  sprung  on  them.  Holding  out 
his  handful  of  bones,  Mukoki  said: 

"Meat  no  cook — eat  rawl" 

"Great  Scott!"  gasped  Rod. 

Wabi's  eyes  flashed  with  a  new  understand 
ing,  and  as  he  gazed  into  Rod's  astonished  face 
the  latter,  too,  began  to  comprehend  the 
significance  of  it  all. 

"It  must  have  been  the  madman!" 

"Yes." 

"And  he  was  here  yesterday  I" 

"Probably   the   day  before,"   said   Wabi 
The  young  Indian  turned  suddenly  to  Mu- 
koki.     "What  did  he  want  of  the  fire  if  he 
didn't  cook  meat?"  he  asked. 

Mukoki  shrugged  his  shoulders  but  did  not 
answer. 


iHE   THIRD   WATERFALL          217 

"Well,  it  wasn't  cooked,  anyway,"  declared 
Wabi,  again  examining  the  bones.  "Here  arc 
chunks  of  raw  flesh  clinging  to  the  bones. 
Perhaps  he  just  singed  the  outside  of  his 


meat." 


The  old  Indian  nodded  at  this  suggestion 
and  turned  to  investigate  the  fire.  On  the  end 
of  the  log  were  two  stones,  one  flat  and  the 
other  round  and  smooth,  and  after  a  moment's 
inspection  of  these  he  dropped  an  exclamation 
which  was  unusual  for  him,  and  which  he 
used  only  in  those  rare  intervals  when  all 
other  language  seemed  to  fail  him. 

"Bad  dog  man — mak'  bullet — here!"  he 
called,  holding  out  the  stones.  "See — gold — 
gold!" 

The  boys  hurried  to  his  side. 

"See — gold!"  he  repeated  excitedly. 

In  the  center  of  the  flat  stone  there  was  a 
gleaming  yellow  film.  A  single  glance  told 
the  story.  With  the  round  stone  for  a  hammer 
the  mad  hunter  had  pounded  his  golden  bul 
lets  into  shape  upon  the  flat  stone!  There  was 
no  longer  a  doubt  in  their  minds;  they  were 


218  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

in  the  madman's  camp.  That  morning  they 
had  left  this  strange  creature  of  the  wilderness 
fifty  miles  away.  But  how  far  away  was  he 
now?  The  fire  slumbering  under  its  cover- 
ing  of  ash  and  earth  proved  that  he  meant  to 
return — and  soon.  Would  he  travel  by  night 
as  well  as  by  day?  Was  it  possible  that  he  was 
already  close  behind  them? 

"He  travels  with  the  swiftness  of  an  ani 
mal,"  said  Wabi,  speaking  in  a  low  voice  to 
Rod.  "Perhaps  he  will  return  to-night!" 

Mukoki  overheard  him  and  shook  his  head. 

"Mak'  heem  through  chasm  in  two  day  on 
snow-shoe,"  he  declared,  referring  to  his  trip 
of  exploration  to  the  first  waterfall  over  the 
snows  of  the  previous  winter.  "No  mak'  in 
t'ree  day  over  rock!" 

"If  Mukoki  is  satisfied,  I  am,"  said  Rod. 
"We  can  pull  up  behind  the  driftwood  on 
the  farther  edge  of  the  lake  bed." 

Wabi  made  no  objection,  and  the  camp  site 
was  chosen.  Strangely  enough,  with  the  dis 
covery  of  the  footprints,  the  fire,  the  picked 
bones  and  the  stones  with  which  the  mad 


THE   THIRD    WATERFALL          219 

hunter  had  manufactured  his  golden  bullets, 
Mukoki  seemed  to  have  lost  all  fear  of  the 
wild  creature  of  the  chasm.  He  was  confident 
now  that  he  had  only  a  man  to  deal  with,  a 
man  who  had  gone  "bad  dog,"  and  his  curios 
ity  overcame  his  alarm.  His  assurance  served 
to  dispel  the  apprehension  of  his  companions, 
and  sleep  came  early  to  the  tired  adventurers. 
Nor  did  anything  occur  during  the  night  to 
awaken  them. 

Soon  after  dawn  the  trip  down  the  chasm 
Stream  was  resumed.  With  the  abrupt  turn 
ing  of  the  channel  to  the  north,  however,  there 
was  an  almost  immediate  change  in  the  to 
pography  of  the  country.  Within  an  hour  the 
precipitous  walls  of  the  mountains  gave  place 
to  verdure-covered  slopes,  and  now  and  then 
the  gold  seekers  found  themselves1  between 
plains  that  swept  back  for  a  mile  or  more  on 
either  side.  Frequent  signs  of  game  were 
observed  along  the  shores  of  the  river  and  sev 
eral  times  during  the  morning  moose  and  cari 
bou  were  seen  in  the  distance.  A  few  months 
before,  when  they  had  invaded  the  wilderness 


220  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

to  hunt  and  trap,  this  country  would  have 
aroused  the  wildest  enthusiasm  among  Rod 
and  his  friends,  but  now  they  gave  but  little 
thought  to  their  rifles.  That  morning  they 
had  set  out  with  the  intention  of  reaching  the 
second  waterfall  before  dusk,  and  it  was  with 
disappointment  rather  than  gladness  that  they 
saw  the  swift  current  of  the  chasm  torrent 
change  into  the  slower,  steadier  sweep  of  a 
stream  that  had  now  widened  into  a  fair-sized 
river.  According  to  the  map  the  second  fall 
was  about  fifty-five  miles  from  the  mad  hun 
ter's  camp.  Darkness  found  them  still  fifteen 
miles  from  where  it  should  be. 

Excitement  kept  Rod  awake  most  of  that 
night.  Try  as  he  would,  he  could  not  keep 
visions  of  the  lost  treasure  out  of  his  mind. 
The  next  day  they  would  be  far  on  their  way 
to  the  third  and  last  waterfall.  And  then — 
the  gold !  That  they  might  not  find  it,  that  the 
passing  of  half  a  century  or  more  might  have 
obliterated  all  traces  left  by  its  ancient  discov 
erers,  never  for  a  moment  disturbed  his  be 
lief. 


THE   THIRD   WATERFALL          221 

He  was  the  first  awake  the  following  morn 
ing,  the  first  to  take  his  place  in  the  canoe. 
Every  minute  now  his  ears  were  keenly  at 
tuned  for  that  distant  sound  of  falling  water, 
But  hours  passed  without  a  sign  of  it.  Noon 
came.  They  had  traveled  six  hours  and  had 
covered  twenty- five  miles  instead  of  fifteenl 
Where  was  the  waterfall? 

There  was  a  little  more  of  anxiety  in  Wabi- 
goon's  eyes  when  they  resumed  their  journey 
after  dinner.  Again  and  again  Rod  looked  at 
his  map,  figuring  out  the  distances  as  drawn 
by  John  Ball,  the  murdered  Englishman. 
Surely  the  second  waterfall  could  not  be  far 
away  now!  And  still  hour  after  hour  passed, 
and  mile  after  mile  slipped  behind  them,  until 
the  three  knew  that  they  had  gone  fully  thirty 
miles  beyond  where  the  cataract  should  have 
been,  if  the  map  was  right.  Twilight  was 
falling  when  they  stopped  for  supper.  For 
the  last  hour  Mukoki  had  spoken  no  word. 
A  feeling  of  gloom  was  on  them  all ;  without 
questioning,  each  knew  what  the  fears  of  the 
others  were. 


222  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

Was  it  possible  that,  after  all,  they  had  not 
solved  the  secret  of  the  mysterious  map? 

The  more  Rod  thought  of  it  the  more  his 
fears  possessed  him.  The  two  men  who 
fought  and  died  in  the  old  cabin  were  on 
their  way  to  civilization.  They  were  taking 
gold  with  them,  gold  which  they  meant  to  ex 
change  for  supplies.  Would  they,  at  the  same 
time,  dare  to  have  in  their  possession  a  map  so 
closely  defining  their  trail  as  the  rude  sketch 
on  the  bit  of  birch  bark?  Was  there  not  some 
strange  key,  known  only  to  themselves,  neces 
sary  to  the  understanding  of  that  sketch? 

Mukoki  had  taken  his  rifle  and  disappeared 
in  the  plain  along  the  river,  and  for  a  long 
time  after  they  had  eaten  their  bear  steak  and 
drunk  their  hot  coffee  Rod  and  Wabigoon  sat 
talking  in  the  glow  of  the  camp-fire.  The  old 
warrior  had  been  gone  for  about  an  hour 
when  suddenly  there  came  the  report  of  a  gun 
from  far  down  the  stream,  which  was  quickly 
followed  by  two  others — three  in  rapid  suc 
cession.  After  an  interval  of  a  few  reconds 
there  sounded  two  other  shots. 


THE   THIRD    WATERFALL          223 

"The  signal!"  cried  Rod.  "Mukoki  wants 
us!" 

Wabigoon  sprang  to  his  feet  and  emptied 
the  five  shots  of  his  magazine  into  the  air. 

"Listen!" 

Hardly  had  the  echoes  died  away  when 
there  came  again  the  reports  of  Mukoki's 
rifle. 

Without  another  word  the  two  boys  hurried 
to  the  canoe,  which  had  not  been  unloaded. 

"He's  a  couple  of  miles  down-stream,"  said 
Wabi,  as  they  shoved  off.  "I  wonder  what's 
the  matter?" 

"I  can  make  a  pretty  good  guess,"  replied 
Rod,  his  voice  trembling  with  a  new  excite 
ment.  "He  has  found  the  second  waterfall!" 

The  thought  gave  fresh  strength  to  their 
aching  arms  and  the  canoe  sped  swiftly  down 
the  stream.  Fifteen  minutes  later  another  shot 
signaled  to  them,  this  time  not  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away,  and  Wabi  responded 
to  it  with  a  loud  shout.  Mukoki's  voice 
floated  back  in  an  answering  halloo,  but  be 
fore  the  young  hunters  came  within  sight  of 


224  THE    GOLD   HUNTERS 

their  comrade  another  sound  reached  their 
ears, — the  muffled  roar  of  a  cataract!  Again 
and  again  the  boys  sent  their  shouts  of  ]oy 
echoing  through  the  night,  and  above  the 
tumult  of  their  own  voices  they  heard  the  old 
warrior  calling  on  them  to  put  into  shore. 
Mukoki  was  waiting  for  them  when  they 
landed. 

"This  is  big  un!"  he  greeted.  "Mak'  much 
noise,  much  swift  water!" 

"Hurrah!"  yelled  Rod  for  the  twentieth 
time,  jumping  up  and  down  in  his  excite 
ment. 

"Hurrah!"  cried  Wabi. 

And  Mukoki  chuckled,  and  grinned,  and 
rubbed  his  leathery  hands  together  in  high 
glee. 

At  last,  when  they  had  somewhat  cooled 
down,  Wabi  said: 

"That  John  Ball  was  a  pretty  poor  fellow 
at  a  guess,  eh?  What  do  you  say,  Rod?" 

"Or  else  pretty  clever,"  added  Rod.  "By 
George,  I  wonder  if  he  had  a  reason  for  mak 
ing  his  scale  fifty  miles  or  so  out  of  the  way?" 


THE   THIRD   WATERFALL          225 

Wabi  looked  at  him,  only  partly  under 
standing. 

'What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  our  third  waterfall  is  more 
than  likely  to  be  mighty  close  to  this  one! 
And  if  it  is — well,  John  Ball  had  a  reason, 
and  a  good  one!  If  we  strike  the  last  fall  to 
morrow  it  will  be  pretty  good  proof  that  he 
drew  the  map  in  a  way  intended  to  puzzle 
somebody, — perhaps  his  two  partners,  who 
were  just  about  to  start  for  civilization." 

"Muky,  how  far  have  we  come?"  asked 
Wabigoon. 

"Tree  time  first  fall,"  replied  the  old  In 
dian  quickly. 

"A  hundred  and  fifty  miles — in  three  days 
and  one  night.  I  don't  believe  that  is  far  out 
of  the  way.  Then,  according  to  the  map,  we 
should  still  be  a  hundred  miles  from  the  third 
fall." 

"And  we're  not  more  than  twenty-five!"  de 
clared  Rod  confidently.  "Let's  build  a  fire 
and  go  to  bed.  We'll  have  enough  to  do  to 
morrow — hunting  gold!" 


226  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

The  fourth  day's  journey  was  begun  before 
it  was  yet  light.  Breakfast  was  eaten  in  the 
glow  of  the  camp-fire,  and  by  the  time  dawn 
broke  the  adventurers  were  already  an  hour 
upon  their  way.  Nothing  but  confidence  now, 
animated  them.  The  mad  hunter  and  his 
golden  bullets  were  entirely  forgotten  in 
these  last  hours  of  their  exciting  quest.  Once, 
far  back,  Rod  had  thought  with  chilling 
dread  that  this  might  be  the  madman's  trail, 
that  his  golden  bullets  might  come  from  the 
treasure  they  were  seeking.  But  he  gave  no 
thought  to  this  possibility  now.  His  -own  be 
lief  that  the  third  and  last  fall  was  not  far 
distant,  in  spite  of  the  evidence  of  the  map, 
gradually  gained  possession  of  his  compan 
ions,  and  the  nerves  of  all  three  were  keyed 
to  the  highest  tension  of  expectancy.  The 
preceding  night  Mukoki  had  made  himself 
a  paddle  to  replace  the  one  he  had  broken, 
and  not  a  stroke  of  the  three  pairs  of  arms 
was  lost.  Early  in  the  morning  a  young  moose 
allowed  them  to  pass  within  a  hundred  yards 
of  him.  But  no  shot  was  fired,  for  to  obtaio 


THE   THIRD    WATERFALL          227 

the  meat  would  have  meant  an  hour's  loss  of 
time. 

Two  hours  after  the  start  the  country  again 
began  taking  on  a  sudden  change.  From  east 
md  west  the  wild  mountain  ridges  closed  in, 
and  with  each  mile's  progress  the  stream  nar 
rowed  and  grew  swifter,  until  again  it  was 
running  between  chasm  walls  that  rose  black 
and  silent  over  the  adventurers'  heads. 
Darker  and  gloomier  became  the  break  be 
tween  ehe  mountains.  Far  above,  a  thousand 
feet  or  more,  dense  forests  of  red  pine  flung 
their  thick  shadows  over  the  edge  of  the 
chasm,  in  places  almost  completely  shutting 
out  the  light  of  day.  This  was  not  like  the 
other  chasm.  It  was  deeper  and  darker  and 
more  sullen.  Under  its  walls  the  gloom  was 
almost  that  of  night.  Its  solitude  was  voice 
less;  not  a  bird  fluttered  or  chirped  among  its 
rocks;  the  lowest  of  whispered  words  sounded 
with  startling  distinctness.  Once  Rod  spoke 
aloud,  and  his  voice  rose  and  beat  itself  in  the 
cavernous  depths  of  the  walls  until  it  seemed 
as  though  he  had  shouted.  Now  they  ceased 


228  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

paddling,  and  Mukoki  steered.  Noiselessly 
the  current  swept  them  on.  In  the  twilight 
gloom  Rod's  face  shone  with  singular  white 
ness.  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon  crouched  like 
bronze  silhouettes.  It  was  as  if  some  mysteri 
ous  influence  held  them  in  its  power,  forbid 
ding  speech,  holding  their  eyes  in  staring 
expectancy  straight  ahead,  filling  them  with 
indefinable  sensations  that  made  their  hearts 
beat  faster  and  their  blood  tingle. 

Softly,  from  far  ahead,  at  last  there  came  a 
murmur.  It  was  like  the  first  gentle  whisper 
ing  of  an  approaching  wind,  the  soughing  of 
a  breath  among  the  pines  at  the  top  of  the 
chasm.  But  a  wind  among  the  trees  rises,  and 
then  dies  away,  like  a  chord  struck  low  and 
gently  upon  some  soft-toned  instrument.  This 
whisper  that  came  up  the  chasm  remained. 
It  grew  no  louder,  and  sometimes  it  almost 
faded  away,  until  the  straining  ears  of  those 
who  listened  could  barely  detect  it;  but  aftei 
a  moment  it  was  there  again,  as  plainly  ai 
before.  Little  by  little  it  became  more  dis 
tinct,  until  there  were  no  longer  intervals 


THE   THIRD   WATERFALL          229 

when  it  died  away,  and  at  last  Wabigoon 
turned  in  the  bow  and  faced  his  companions, 
and  though  he  spoke  no  word  there  was  the 
gleam  of  a  great  excitement  in  his  eyes.  Rod's 
heart  beat  like  a  drum.  He,  too,  began  to  un 
derstand.  That  moaning,  whispering  sound 
floating  up  the  chasm  was  not  the  wind,  but 
the  far-away  rumble  of  the  third  waterfall! 

Mukoki's  voice  broke  the  tense  silence  from 
behind. 

"That  the  falir 

Wabigoon  replied  in  words  scarcely  louder 
than  a  whisper.  There  was  no  joyful  shout 
ing  now,  as  there  had  been  at  the  discovery 
of  the  second  fall.  Even  Mukoki's  voice  was 
so  low  that  the  others  could  barely  hear. 
Something  between  these  chasm  walls  seemed 
to  demand  silence  from  them,  and  as  the  rum 
ble  of  the  cataract  came  more  and  more 
clearly  to  their  ears  they  held  their  breath  in 
voiceless  anticipation.  A  few  hundred  yards 
ahead  of  them  was  the  treasure  which  men 
long  since  dead  had  discovered  more  than  half 
a  century  before;  between  the  black  mountain 


230  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

walls  that  so  silently  guarded  that  treasure 
there  seemed  to  lurk  the  spirit  presence  of  the 
three  men  who  had  died  because  of  it.  Here, 
somewhere  very  near,  John  Ball  had  been 
murdered,  and  Rod  almost  fancied  that  along 
the  sandy  edge  of  the  chasm  stream  they  might 
stumble  on  the  footprints  of  the  men  whose 
skeletons  they  had  discovered  in  the  ancient 
cabin. 

Mukoki  uttered  no  sound  as  he  guided  the 
canoe  ashore.  Still  without  word,  the  three 
picked  up  their  rifles  and  Wabigoon  led  the 
way  along  the  edge  of  the  stream.  Soon  it 
dashed  a  swift  racing  torrent  between  the 
rocks,  and  Rod  and  his  companions  knew  that 
they  were  close  upon  the  fall.  A  hundred 
yards  or  more  and  they  saw  the  white  mist  of 
it  leaping  up  before  their  eyes.  Wabi  began 
to  run,  his  moccasined  feet  springing  from 
stpne  to  stone  with  the  caution  of  a  hunter 
approaching  game,  and  Mukoki  and  Rod 
p*me  close  behind  him. 

They  paused  upon  the  edge  of  a  great  mass 
t>f  rock  with  the  spray  of  the  plunging  cata- 


THE   THIRD    WATERFALL         231 

ract  rising  in  their  faces.  Breathless  they 
gazed  down.  It  was  not  a  large  fall.  Wabi 
silently  measured  it  at  forty  feet.  But  it 
added  just  that  much  more  to  the  depth  and 
die  gloom  of  the  chasm  beyond,  into  which 
there  seemed  no  way  of  descent.  The  rock 
walls  rose  sheer  and  black,  with  clumps  of 
cedar  and  stunted  pine  growing  at  their  feet. 
Farther  on  the  space  between  the  mountains 
became  wider,  and  the  river  reached  out  on 
either  side,  frothing  and  beating  itself  into 
white  fury  in  a  chaos  of  slippery  water-worn 
rocks. 

Down  there — somewhere — was  the  golden 
treasure  they  had  come  to  seek,  unless  the  map 
lied!  Was  it  among  those  rocks,  where  the 
water  dashed  and  fumed?  Was  it  hidden  in 
some  gloomy  cavern  of  the  mountain  sides,  its 
trail  concealed  by  the  men  who  discovered  it 
half  an  age  ago?  Would  they  find  it,  after 
\l\ — would  they  find  it? 

A  great  gulp  of  excitement  rose  in  Rod's 
throat,  and  he  looked  at  Wabigoon. 

The  Indian  youth  had  stretched  out  an  arm. 


232  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

His  eyes  were  blazing,  his  whole  attitude  was 
one  of  tense  emotion. 

"There's  the  cabin,"  he  cried,  "the  cabin 
built  by  John  Ball  and  the  two  Frenchmen! 
See,  over  there  among  those  cedars,  almost 
hidden  in  that  black  shadow  of  the  mountain! 
Great  Scott,  Muky — Rod — can't  you  see? 
Can't  you  see?" 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  PAPER  IN  THE  OLD  TIN  BOX 

SLOWLY  out  of  that  mysterious  gloom; 
there  grew  a  shape  before  Rod's  eyesi 
At  first  it  was  only  a  shadow,  then  it 
might  have  been  a  rock,  and  then  the  gulp  in 
his  throat  leaped  out  in  a  shout  when  he  saw 
that  Wabigoon's  sharp  eyes  had  in  truth  dis 
covered  the  old  cabin  of  the  map.  For  what 
else  could  it  be?  What  else  but  the  wilderness 
home  of  the  adventurers  whose  skeletons  they 
had  found,  Peter  Plante  and  Henri  Langlois, 
and  John  Ball,  the  man  whom  these  two  had 
murdered? 

Rod's  joyous  voice  was  like  the  touch  of  fire 
to  Wabi's  enthusiasm  and  in  a  moment  the 
oppressive  silence  of  their  journey  down  the) 
chasm  was  broken  by  the  wild  cheers  which 
the  young  gold  seekers  sent  echoing  between 
the  mountains.  Grimacing  and  chuckling  in 

233 


234  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

his  own  curious  way,  Mukoki  was  already 
slipping  along  the  edge  of  the  rock,  seeking 
some  break  by  which  he  might  reach  the  lower 
chasm.  They  were  on  the  point  of  turning  to 
the  ascent  of  the  mountain,  along  which  they 
would  have  to  go  until  they  found  such  a 
break,  when  the  old  pathfinder  directed  the 
attention  of  his  companions  to  the  white  top 
of  a  dead  cedar  stub  projecting  over  the  edge 
of  the  precipice. 

"Go  down  that,  mebby,"  he  suggested, 
shrugging  his  shoulders  to  suggest  that  the  ex 
periment  might  be  a  dangerous  one. 

Rod  looked  over.  The  top  of  the  stub  was 
within  easy  reach,  and  the  whole  tree  was  en 
tirely  free  of  bark  or  limbs,  a  fact  which  in 
his  present  excitement  did  not  strike  him  as 
especially  unusual.  Swinging  his  rifle  strap 
over  his  shoulders  he  reached  out,  caught  the 
slender  apex  of  the  stub,  and  before  the  others 
could  offer  a  word  of  encouragement  or  warn 
ing  was  sliding  down  the  wall  of  the  rock  into 
the  chasm.  Wabi  was  close  behind  him,  and 
not  waiting  for  Mukoki's  descent  the  two  boys 


THE   OLD   TIN   BOX  235 

hurried  toward  the  cabin.  Half-way  to  it 
Wabi  stopped. 

"This  isn't  fair.  We've  got  to  wait  for 
Muky." 

They  looked  back.  Mukoki  was  not  fol 
lowing.  The  old  warrior  was  upon  his  knees 
at  the  base  of  the  dead  tree,  as  though  he  was 
searching  for  something  among  the  rocks  at 
its  foot.  Then  he  rose  slowly,  and  rubbed  his 
hands  along  the  stub  as  high  as  he  could  reach. 
When  he  saw  that  Rod  and  Wabi  were  ob 
serving  him  he  quickly  came  toward  them, 
and  Wabigoon,  who  was  quick  to  notice  any 
change  in  him,  was  confident  that  he  had  made 
a  discovery  of  some  kind. 

"What  have  you  found,  Muky?" 

"No  so  ver'  much.  Funny  tree,"  grunted 
the  Indian. 

"Smooth  as  a  fireman's  brass  pole,"  added 
Rod,  seeing  no  significance  in  Mukoki's 
words.  "Listen!" 

He  stopped  so  suddenly  that  Wabigoon 
bumped  into  him  from  behind. 

"Did  you  hear  that?" 


236  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

"No." 

For  a  few  moments  the  three  huddled  close 
together  in  watchful  silence.  Mukoki  was 
behind  the  boys  or  they  would  have  seen  that 
his  rifle  was  ready  to  spring  to  his  shoulder 
and  that  his  black  eyes  were  snapping  with 
something  not  aroused  by  curiosity  alone. 
The  cabin  was  not  more  than  twenty  paces 
away.  It  was  old,  so  old  that  Rod  wondered 
how  it  had  withstood  the  heavy  storms  of  the 
last  winter.  A  growth  of  saplings  had  found 
root  in  its  rotting  roof  and  the  logs  of  which 
it  was  built  were  in  the  last  stage  of  decay 
There  was  no  window,  and  where  the  door 
had  once  been  there  had  grown  a  tree  a  foot 
in  diameter,  almost  closing  the  narrow  aper 
ture  through  which  the  mysterious  inhabit 
ants  had  passed  years  before.  A  dozen  paces, 
five  paces  from  this  door,  and  Mukoki's  hand 
reached  out  and  laid  itself  gently  upon  Wabi's 
'shoulder.  Rod  saw  the  movement  and 
stopped.  A  strange  look  had  come  into  the 
old  Indian's  face,  an  expression  in  which  there 
was  incredulity  and  astonishment,  as  if  he  be- 


THE   OLD    TIN    BOX  237 

lieved  and  yet  doubted  what  his  eyes  beheld. 
Mutely  he  pointed  to  the  tree  growing  before 
the  door,  and  to  the  reddish,  crumbling  rot 
into  which  the  logs  had  been  turned  by  the 
passing  of  generations. 

"Red  pine,"  he  said  at  last.  "That  cabm 
more'n'  twent'  t'ous'nd  year  old!" 

There  was  an  awesome  ring  in  his  voice. 
Rod  understood,  and  clutched  Wabi's  arm. 
In  an  instant  he  thought  of  the  other  old  cabin, 
in  which  they  had  found  the  skeletons.  They 
had  repaired  that  cabin  and  had  passed  the 
winter  in  it,  and  they  knew  that  it  had  been 
built  half  a  century  or  more  before.  But  this 
cabin  was  beyond  repair.  To  Rod  it  seemed 
as  though  centuries  of  time  instead  of  dec 
ades  had  been  at  work  on  its  timbers.  Fol 
lowing  close  after  Wabi  he  thrust  his  head 
through  the  door.  Deep  gloom  shut  out  their 
vision.  But  as  they  looked,  steadily  inuring 
their  eyes  to  the  darkness  within,  the  walls  of 
the  old  cabin  took  form,  and  they  saw  that 
everywhere  was  vacancy.  There  was  no  an 
cient  table,  as  in  the  other  cabin  they  had  dis- 


238  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

covered  at  the  head  of  the  first  chasm,  there 
were  no  signs  of  the  life  that  had  once  ex 
isted,  not  even  the  remnants  of  a  chair  or  a 
stool.  The  cabin  was  bare. 

Foot  by  foot  the  two  boys  went  around  its 
walls.  Mukoki  took  but  a  single  glance  in 
side  and  disappeared.  Once  alone  he  snapped 
down  the  safety  of  his  rifle.  Quickly,  as  if  he 
feared  interruption,  he  hurried  around  the  old 
cabin,  his  eyes  close  to  the  earth.  When  Rod 
and  Wabi  returned  to  the  door  he  was  at  the 
edge  of  the  fall,  crouching  low  among  the 
rocks  like  an  animal  seeking  a  trail.  Wabi 
pulled  his  companion  back. 

"Look!" 

The  old  warrior  rose,  suddenly  erect,  and 
turned  toward  them,  but  the  boys  were  hid 
den  in  the  gloom.  Then  he  hurried  to  the 
dead  stub  beside  the  chasm  wall.  Again  he 
reached  far  up,  rubbing  his  hand  along  its 
surface. 

"I'm  going  to  have  a  look  at  that  tree!'7 
whispered  Wabi.  "Something  is  puzzling 
Mukoki.  Are  you  coming?" 


THE   OLD   TIN   BOX  2391 

He  hurried  across  the  rock-strewn  opening,, 
but  Rod  hung  back.  He  could  not  under 
stand  his  companions.  For  weeks  and  months 
they  had  planned  to  find  this  third  waterfall. 
Visions  of  a  great  treasure  had  been  constantly 
before  their  eyes,  and  now  that  they  were  here, 
with  the  gold  perhaps  under  their  very  feet, 
both  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon  were  more  in 
terested  in  a  dead  stub  than  in  their  search  for 
it  I  His  own  heart  was  almost  bursting  with 
excitement.  The  very  air  which  he  breathed 
in  the  old  cabin  set  his  blood  leaping  with  an 
ticipation.  Here  those  earlier  adventurers 
had  lived  half  a  century  or  more  ago.  In  it 
the  life-blood  of  the  murdered  John  Ball 
might  have  ebbed  away.  In  this  cabin  the 
men  whose  skeletons  he  had  found  had  slept, 
and  planned,  and  measured  their  gold.  And 
the  gold!  It  was  that  and  not  the  stub  that  in 
terested  Roderick  Drew!  Where  was  the  lost 
treasure?  Surely  the  old  cabin  must  hold 
some  clue  for  them,  it  would  at  least  tell  them 
more  than  the  limbless  white  corpse  of  a  tree! 

From  the  door  he  looked  back  into  the  dank 


240  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

gloom,  straining  his  eyes  to  see,  and  then 
glanced  across  the  opening.  Wabi  had 
reached  the  stub,  and  both  he  and  Mukoki 
were  on  their  knees  beside  it.  Probably  they 
have  found  the  marks  of  a  lynx  or  a  bear, 
thought  Rod.  A  dozen  paces  away  something 
else  caught  his  eyes,  a  fallen  red  pine,  dry 
and  heavy  with  pitch,  and  in  less  than  a  min 
ute  he  had  gone  to  it  and  was  back  with  a 
torch.  Breathlessly  he  touched  the  tiny  flame 
of  a  match  to  the  stick.  For  a  moment  the 
pitch  sputtered  and  hissed,  then  flared  into 
light,  and  Rod  held  the  burning  wood  above 
his  head. 

The  young  gold  seeker's  first  look  about 
him  was  disappointing.  Nothing  but  the  bare 
walls  met  his  eyes.  Then,  in  the  farthest 
corner,  he  observed  something  that  In  the 
dancing  torch-light  was  darker  than  the  logs 
themselves,  and  he  moved  toward  it.  It  was 
a  tiny  shelf,  not  more  than  a  foot  long,  and 
upon  it  was  a  small  tin  box,  black  and  rust- 
eaten  by  the  passing  of  ages.  With  trembling 
fingers  Rod  took  it  in  his  hand.  It  was  very 


THE   OLD   TIN   BOX  241 

light,  probably  empty.  In  it  he  might  find 
the  dust  of  John  Ball's  last  tobacco.  Then, 
suddenly,  as  he  thought  of  this,  he  stopped  in 
his  search  and  a  muffled  exclamation  of  sur 
prise  fell  from  him.  In  the  glow  of  the  torch 
he  looked  at  the  tin  box.  It  was  crumbling 
with  age  and  he  might  easily  have  crushed  it 
in  his  hand — and  yet  it  was  still  a  tin  box!  If 
this  box  had  remained  why  had  not  other 
things?  Where  were  the  pans  and  kettles,  the 
pail  and  frying-pan,  knives,  cups  and  other 
articles  which  John  Ball  and  the  two  French 
men  must  at  one  time  have  possessed  in  this 
cabin? 

He  returned  to  the  door.  Mukoki  and  Wa- 
bigoon  were  still  at  the  dead  stub.  Even  the 
flare  of  light  in  the  old  cabin  had  not  at 
tracted  them.  Tossing  his  torch  away  Rod 
tore  off  the  top  of  the  tin  box.  Something 
fell  at  his  feet,  and  as  he  reached  for  it  he  saw 
that  it  was  a  little  roll  of  paper,  almost  as  dis 
colored  as  the  rust-eaten  box  itself.  As  gently 
as  Mukoki  had  unrolled  the  precious  birch- 
bark  map  a  few  months  before  he  smoothed 


242  THE    GOLD   HUNTERS 

out  the  paper.  The  edges  of  it  broke  and 
crumbled  under  his  fingers,  but  the  inner  side 
of  the  roll  was  still  quite  white.  Mukoki  and 
Wabigoon,  looking  back,  saw  him  suddenly 
turn  toward  them  with  a  shrill  cry  on  his  lips, 
and  the  next  instant  he  was  racing  in  their 
direction,  shouting  wildly  at  every  step. 

"The  gold!"  he  shrieked.  "The  gold! 
Hurrah!" 

He  was  almost  sobbing  in  his  excitement 
when  he  stopped  between  them,  holding  out 
the  bit  of  paper. 

"I  found  it  in  the  cabin — in  a  tin  box!  See, 
it's  John  Ball's  writing — the  writing  that  was 
on  the  old  map !  I  found  it — in  a  tin  box — " 

Wabi  seized  the  paper.  His  own  breath 
came  more  quickly  when  he  saw  what  was 
upon  it.  There  were  a  few  lines  of  writing, 
dim  but  still  legible,  and  a  number  of  figures. 
Across  the  top  of  the  paper  was  written, 

"Account  of  John  Ball,  Henri  Langlois, 
and  Peter  Plante  for  month  ending  June 
thirtieth,  1859." 

Below  these  lines  was  the  following: 


THE   OLD   TIN   BOX  243 

"Plante's  work:  nuggets,  7  pounds,  nine 
ounces;  dust,  i  pound,  3  ounces.  Langlois' 
work:  nuggets,  9  pounds,  13  ounces;  dust, 
none.  Ball's  work:  nuggets,  6  pounds,  4 
ounces ;  dust,  2  pounds,  3  ounces. 

Total,  27  pounds. 

Plante's  share,  6  pounds,  i2»ounces. 

Langlois'  share,  6  pounds,  12  ounces. 

Ball's  share,  13  pounds,  8  ounces. 

Division  made." 


Softly  Wabigoon  read  the  words  aloud. 
When  he  finished  his  eyes  met  Rod's,  Mukoki 
was  still  crouching  at  the  foot  of  tli&  stub,  star 
ing  at  the  two  boys  in  silenre,  as  if  stupefied 
by  what  he  had  just  heard. 

"This  doesn't  leave  a  donbt,"  said  Wabi  at 
last.  "We've  struck  the  right  place!" 

"The  gold  is  somewhere-— very  near — " 

Rod  could  not  master  the  tremble  in  his 
voice.  As  though  hoping  to  see  the  yellow 
treasure  heaped  in  a  pile  before  his  eyes  he 
turned  to  the  waterfall,  to  the  gloomy  walls  of 
the  chasm,  and  finally  extended  an  arm  to 
where  the  spring  torrent,  leaping  over  the  edge 


THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

of  the  chasm  above,  beat  itself  into  frothing 
rage  among  the  rocks  between  the  two  moun 
tains. 

"It's  there!" 

"In  the  stream?" 

"Yes.  Where  else  near  this  cabin  would 
they  have  found  pure  nuggets  of  gold?  Surely 
not  in  rock!  And  gold-dust  is  always  in  the 
sands  of  streams.  It's  there  —  without  a 
doubt!" 

Both  Indians  went  with  him  to  the  edge  of 
the  water. 

"The  creek  widens  here  until  it  is  very  shal 
low,"  said  Wabi.  "I  don't  believe  that  it  is 
more  than  four  feet  deep  out  there  in  the  mid 
dle.  What  do  you  say — "  He  paused  as  he 
saw  Mukoki  slip  back  to  the  dead  stub  again, 
then  went  on,  "What  do  you  say  to  making  a 
trip  to  the  canoe  after  grub  for  our  dinner,  and 
the  pans?" 

The  first  flash  of  enthusiasm  that  had  filled 
Wabigoon  on  reading  the  paper  discovered  by 
Rod  was  quickly  passing  away,  and  the  white 
youth  could  not  but  notice  the  change  which 


THE   OLD   TIN   BOX  245 

came  over  both  Mukoki  and  his  young  friend 
when  they  stood  once  more  beside  the  smooth 
white  stub  that  reached  up  to  the  floor  of  the 
chasm  above.  He  controlled  his  own  enthusi 
asm  enough  to  inspect  more  closely  the  dead 
tree  which  had  affected  them  so  strangely. 
The  discovery  he  made  fairly  startled  him. 
The  surface  of  the  stub  was  not  only  smooth 
and  free  of  limbs,  but  was  polished  until  it 
shone  with  the  reflecting  luster  of  a  waxed 
pillar!  For  a  moment  he  forgot  the  paper 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  forgot  the  old 
cabin,  and  the  nearness  of  gold.  In  blank  won 
der  he  stared  at  Mukoki,  and  the  old  Indian 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Ver'  nice  an'  smooth!" 

"Ver'  dam'  smooth!"  emphasized  Wabi, 
without  a  suggestion  of  humor  in  his  voice. 

"What  does  it  mean?"  asked  Rod. 

"It  means,"  continued  Wabigoon,  "that  this 
old  stub  has  for  a  good  many  years  been  used 
by  something  as  a  sort  of  stairway  in  and  out 
of  this  chasm!  Now  if  it  were  a  bear,  there 
would  be  claw  marks.  If  it  were  a  lynx,  the 


246  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

surface  of  the  stub  would  be  cut  into  shreds. 
Any  kind  of  animal  would  have  left  his  mark 
behind,  and  no  animal  would  have  put  this 
polish  on  it!" 

"Then  what  in  the  world — " 

Rod  did  not  finish.  Mukoki  lifted  his  shoul 
ders  to  a  level  with  his  chin,  and  Wabi  whis 
tled  as  he  looked  straight  at  him. 

"Not  a  hard  guess,  eh?" 

"You  mean — " 

"That  it's  a  man !  Only  the  arms  and  legs  of 
a  man  going  up  and  down  that  stub  hundreds 
and  thousands  of  times  could  have  worn  it  so 
smooth!  Now,  can  you  guess  who  that  man 
is?" 

In  a  flash  the  answer  shot  into  Rod's  brain. 
He  understood  now  why  this  old  stub  had 
drawn  his  companions  away  from  their  search 
for  gold,  and  he  felt  the  flush  of  excitement  go 
out  of  his  own  cheeks,  and  an  involuntary 
thrill  pass  up  his  back. 

"The  mad  hunter!" 

Wabi  nodded.  Mukoki  grunted  and  rubbea 
his  hands. 


THE   OLD   TIN   BOX  247 

"Gold  in  bullet  come  from  here!"  said  the 
old  pathfinder.  "Bad  dog  man  ver'  swift  on 
trail.  We  hurry  get  canoe — cut  down  tree  I" 

"That's  more  than  you've  said  in  the  last 
half-hour,  and  it's  a  good  idea!"  exclaimed 
Wabi.  "Let's  get  our  stuff  down  here  and  chop 
this  stub  into  firewood!  When  he  comes  back 
and  finds  his  ladder  gone  he'll  give  a  screech 
or  two,  I'll  wager,  and  then  it  will  be  our 
chance  to  do  something  with  him.  Here 
goes!" 

He  started  to  climb  the  stub,  and  a  minute 
or  two  later  stood  safely  on  the  rock  above. 

"Slippery  as  a  greased  pole!"  he  called 
down.  "Bet  you  can't  make  it,  Rod !" 

But  Rod  did,  after  a  tremendous  effort  that 
left  him  breathless  and  gasping  by  the  time 
Wabi  stretched  out  a  helping  hand  to  him. 
Mukoki  came  up  more  easily.  Taking  only 
their  revolvers  with  them  the  three  hurried  to 
the  birch  bark,  and  in  a  single  load  brought 
their  possessions  to  the  rock.  By  means  of 
ropes  the  packs  and  other  contents  of  the 
canoe,  and  finally  the  canoe  itself,  were  low- 


THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

ered  into  the  chasm,  and  while  the  others 
looked  on  Mukoki  seized  the  ax  and  chopped 
down  the  stub. 

"There  I"  he  grunted,  as  a  last  blow  sent  the 
tree  crashing  among  the  rocks.  "Too  high  for 
lieem  jump  I" 

"But  a  mighty  good  place  for  him  to  shoot 
from,"  said  Wabi,  looking  up.  "We'd  better 
camp  out  of  range." 

"Not  until  we  know  what  weVe  struck," 
cried  Rod,  unstrapping  a  pan  from  one  of  the 
packs.  "Boys,  the  first  thing  to  do  is  to  wash 
out  a  little  of  that  river-bed!" 

He  started  for  the  creek,  with  Wabi  close 
behind  him  bearing  a  second  pan.  Mukoki 
looked  after  them  and  chuckled  softly  to  him 
self  as  he  began  making  preparations  for  din 
ner.  Choosing  a  point  where  the  current  had 
swept  up  a  small  bar  of  pebbles  and  sand 
Wabi  and  Rod  both  set  to  work.  The  white 
youth  had  never  before  panned  gold,  but  he 
had  been  told  how  it  was  done,  and  there  now 
shot  through  him  that  strange,  thrilling  excite 
ment  which  enthralls  the  treasure  hunter  when 


THE    OLD   TIN   BOX  249 

he  believes  that  at  last  he  has  struck  pay  dirt. 
Scooping  up  a  quantity  of  the  gravel  and  sand 
he  filled  his  pan  with  water,  then  moved  it 
quickly  back  and  forth,  every  few  moments 
splashing  some  of  the  "wash"  or  muddy  water, 
over  the  side.  Thus,  filling  and  refilling  hi$\ 
pan  with  fresh  water,  he  excitedly  went 
through  the  process  of  "washing"  everything 
but  solid  substance  out  of  it. 

With  each  fresh  dip  into  the  stream  the 
water  in  the  pan  became  clearer,  and  within 
fifteen  minutes  the  three  or  four  double  hand- 
fuls  of  sand  and  gravel  with  which  he  began 
work  dwindled  down  to  one.  Scarcely  breath 
ing  in  his  eagerness  he  watched  for  the  yellow 
gleam  of  gold.  Once  a  glitter  among  the  peb 
bles  drew  a  low  cry  from  him,  but  when  with 
the  point  of  his  knife  he  found  it  to  be  only 
mica  he  was  glad  that  Wabi  had  not  heard 
him.  The  young  Indian  was  squatting  upon 
the  sand,  with  his  pan  turned  toward  a  gleam 
of  the  sun  that  shot  faintly  down  into  the 
chasm.  Without  raising  his  head  he  called  to 
Rod. 


U50  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

"Found  anything?" 

"No.   Have  you?" 

"No— yes — but  I  don't  think  it's  gold." 

"What  does  it  look  like?" 

"it  gleams  yellow  but  is  as  hard  as  steel." 

"Mica!"  said  Rod. 

Neither  of  the  boys  looked  up  during  the 
Conversation.  With  the  point  of  his  hunting- 
knife  Rod  still  searched  in  the  bottom  of  his 
pan,  turning  over  the  pebbles  and  raking  the 
gravelly  sand  with  a  painstaking  care  that 
would  have  made  a  veteran  gold  seeker  laugh. 
Some  minutes  had  passed  when  Wabi  spoke 
again. 

"I  say,  Rod,  that's  a  funny-looking  thing  1 
found!  If  it  wasn't  so  hard  I'd  swear  it  was 
gold?  Want  to  see  it?" 

"It's  mica,"  repeated  Rod,  as  another  gleam 
of  "fool's  gold"  in  his  own  pan  caught  his  eyes. 
*The  stream  is  full  of  it!" 

"Never  saw  mica  in  chunks  before,"  mum 
bled  Wabi,  bending  low  over  his  pan. 

"Chunks!"  cried  Rod,  straightening  as  if 


THE   OLD   TIN   BOX  251 

some  one  had  run  a  pin  into  his  back.  "How 
big  is  it?" 

"Big  as  a  pea — a  big  pea!" 

The  words  were  no  sooner  out  of  the  young 
Indian's  mouth  than  Roderick  was  upon  his 
feet  and  running  to  his  companion. 

"Mica  doesn't  come  in  chunks!  Where — " 

He  bent  over  Wabi's  pan.  In  the  very  mid 
dle  of  it  lay  a  suspiciously  yellow  pebble,  worn 
round  and  smooth  by  the  water,  and  when  Rod 
took  it  in  his  fingers  he  gave  a  low  whistle  of 
mock  astonishment  as  he  gazed  down  into 
Wabigoon's  face. 

"Wabi,  I'm  ashamed  of  you!"  he  said,  try 
ing  hard  to  choke  back  the  quiver  in  his  voice. 
"Mica  doesn't  come  in  round  chunks  like  this. 
Mica  isn't  heavy.  And  this  is  both!" 

From  the  cedars  beyond  the  old  cabin  came 
Mukoki's  whooping  signal  that  dinner  was 
ready. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  TREASURE  IN  THF.  POOL 

FOR  a  few  moments  after  Rod's  word- 
and  Mukoki's  signal  from  the  cedars 
Wabigoon  sat  as  if  stunned. 
"It  isn't — gold,"  he  said,  his  voice  filled 
with  questioning  doubt. 

"That's  just  what  it  is!"  declared  Rod,  his 
words  now  rising  in  the  excitement  which  he 
was  vainly  striving  to  suppress.  "It's  hard, 
'but  see  how  your  knife  point  has  scratched  it! 
It  weighs  a  quarter  of  an  ounce !  Are  there  any 
more  nuggets  in  there?" 

He  fell  upon  his  knees  beside  Wabi,  and 
their  two  heads  were  close  together,  their  four 
eyes  eagerly  searching  the  contents  of  the  pan, 
when  Mukoki  came  up  behind  them.  Rod 
passed  the  golden  nugget  to  the  old  Indian, 
and  rose  to  his  feet. 

"That  settles  it,  boys.    We've  hit  the  right 
252 


THE  TREASURE  IN  THE  POOL  253 

spot.     L^fc's  give  three  cheers  for  John  Ball 
and  the  old  map,  and  go  to  dinner!" 

"I  agree  to  dinner,  but  cut  out  the  cheers," 
said  Wabi,  "or  else  let's  give  them  under  our 
breath.  Notice  how  hollow  our  voices  sound 
in  this  chasm !  I  believe  we  could  hear  a  shout 
half  a  dozen  miles  away!" 

For  their  camp  Mukoki  had  chosen  a  site 
in  *he  edge  of  the  cedars,  and  had  spread  din 
ner  on  a  big  flat  rock  about  which  the  three 
now  gathered.  For  inspiration,  as  Wabi  said, 
the  young  Indian  placed  the  yellow  nugget 
in  the  center  of  the  improvised  table,  and  if 
the  enthusiasm  with  which  they  hurried 
through  their  meal  counted  for  anything  there 
was  great  merit  in  the  golden  centerpiece. 
Mukoki  joined  the  young  gold  seekers  when 
they  again  returned  to  the  chasm  stream,  and 
the  quest  of  the  yellow  treasure  was  vigorously 
renewed  in  trembling  and  feverish  expec 
tancy. 

Only  those  who  have  lived  in  this  quest 
and  who  have  pursued  that  elusive  ignis  fatuus 
of  all  nations — the  lure  of  gold — can  realize 


254  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

the  sensations  which  stir  the  blood  and  heat 
the  brain  of  the  treasure  seeker  as  he  dips  his 
pan  into  the  sands  of  the  stream  where  he  be 
lieves  nature  has  hidden  her  wealth.  As  Rod 
erick  Drew,  a  child  of  that  civilization  where 
the  dollar  is  law  as  well  as  might,  returned 
to  the  exciting  work  which  promised  him  a 
fortune  he  seemed  to  be  in  a  half  dream. 
About  him,  everywhere,  was  gold!  For  no 
moment  did  he  doubt  it;  not  for  an  instant  did 
he  fear  that  there  might  be  no  more  gold  in 
the  sand  and  gravel  from  which  Wabigoon's 
nugget  had  come.  Treasure  was  in  the  very 
sandbar  under  his  feet!  It  was  out  there 
among  the  rocks,  where  the  water  beat  itself 
angrily  into  sputtering  froth ;  it  was  under  the 
fall,  and  down  in  the  chasm,  everywhere,  ev 
erywhere  about  him.  In  one  month  John  Ball 
and  his  companions  had  gathered  twenty- 
seven  pounds  of  it,  a  fortune  of  nearly  seven 
thousand  dollars!  And  they  had  gathered  it 
here!  Eagerly  he  scooped  up  a  fresh  pan  of 
the  precious  earth.  He  heard  the  swish-swish 
of  the  water  in  Wabigoon's  and  Mukoki's 


THE   TREASURE    IN    THE    POOL    255 

pans.  But  beyond  this  there  were  no  sounds 
made  by  them. 

In  these  first  minutes  of  treasure  seeking  no 
words  were  spoken.  Who  would  give  the  first 
shout  of  discovery?  Five  minutes,  ten,  fif 
teen  of  them  passed,  and  Rod  found  no  gold. 
As  he  emptied  his  pan  he  saw  Wabi  scooping 
up  fresh  dirt.  He,  too,  had  failed.  Mukoki 
had  waded  out  waist  deep  among  the  rocks. 
A  second  and  a  third  pan,  and  a  little  chill  of 
disappointment  cooled  Rod's  blood.  Perhaps 
he  had  chosen  an  unlucky  spot,  where  the  gold 
had  not  settled!  He  moved  his  position,  and 
noticed  that  Wabigoon  had  done  the  same. 
A  fourth  and  a  fifth  pan  and  the  result  was 
the  same.  Mukoki  had  waded  across  the 
stream,  which  was  shallow  below  the  fall,  pnd 
was  working  on  the  opposite  side.  A  sixth 
pan,  and  Rod  approached  the  young  Indian. 
The  excitement  was  gone  out  of  their  faces* 
An  hour  and  a  half — and  no  more  gold! 

"Guess  we  haven't  hit  the  right  place,  after 
all,"  said  Wabi. 

"It  must  be  here,"  replied  Rod.    ''Where 


256  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

there  is  one  nugget  there  must  be  more.  Gold 
is  heavy,  and  settles.  Perhaps  it's  deeper  down 
in  the  river  bed." 

Mukoki  came  across  to  join  them.  Out 
among  the  rocks  he  had  found  a  fleck  of  gold 
no  larger  than  the  head  of  a  pin,  and  this  new 
sign  gave  them  all  fresh  enthusiasm.  Taking 
off  their  boots  both  Rod  and  Wabi  joined  the 
old  pathfinder  in  midstream.  But  each  suc 
ceeding  pan  added  to  the  depressing  convic 
tion  that  was  slowly  replacing  their  hopes. 
The  shadows  in  the  chasm  began  growing 
longer  and  deeper.  Far  overhead  the  dense 
canopies  of  red  pine  shut  out  the  last  sun-glow 
of  day,  and  the  gathering  gloom  between  the 
mountains  gave  warning  that  in  this  mysteri 
ous  world  of  the  ancient  cabin  the  dusk  of 
night  was  not  far  away.  But  not  until  they 
could  no  longer  see  the  gleaming  mica  in  their 
pans  did  the  three  cease  work.  Wet  to  the 
waist,  tired,  and  with  sadly-shattered  dreams 
they  returned  to  their  camp.  For  a  short  time 
Rod's  hopes  were  at  their  lowest  ebb.  Was  it 
possible  that  there  was  no  more  gold,  that  the 


THE   TREASURE    IN    THE    POOL    257 

three  adventurers  of  long  ago  had  discovered 
a  "pocket"  here,  and  worked  it  out?  The 
thought  had  been  growing  in  his  head.  Now 
it  worried  him. 

But  his  depression  did  not  last  long.  The 
big  fire  which  Mukoki  built  and  the  stimu 
lating  aroma  of  strong  coffee  revived  his  nat 
ural  spirits,  and  both  Wabi  and  he  were  soon 
laughing  and  planning  again  as  they  made 
their  cedar-bough  shelter.  Supper  on  the  big 
flat  stone — a  feast  of  bear  steak,  hot-stone  bis 
cuits,  coffee,  and  that  most  delectable  of  all 
wilderness  luxuries,  a  potato  apiece, — and  the 
two  irrepressible  young  gold  hunters  were 
once  more  scheming  and  building  their  air- 
castles  for  the  following  day.  Mukoki  lis 
tened,  and  attended  to  the  clothes  drying 
before  the  fire,  now  and  then  walking  out  into 
the  gloom  of  the  chasm  to  look  up  to  where 
the  white  rim  of  the  fall  burst  over  the  edge 
of  the  great  rock  above  them.  All  that  after 
noon  Wabi  and  Rod  had  forgotten  the  mad 
hunter  and  the  strange,  smoothly  worn  tree. 
Mukoki  had  not. 


258  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

In  the  glow  of  the  camp-fire  the  two  boys 
read  over  again  the  old  account  of  John  Ball 
and  the  two  Frenchmen.  The  tiny  slip  of 
paper,  yellow  with  age,  was  the  connecting 
link  between  them  and  the  dim  and  romantic 
past,  a  relic  of  the  grim  tragedy  which  these 
black  and  gloomy  chasm  walls  would  prob 
ably  keep  for  ever  a  secret. 

"Twenty-seven  pounds,"  repeated  Rod,  as  if 
half  to  himself.  "That  was  one  month's 
work!" 

"Pretty  nearly  a  pound  a  day!"  gasped 
Wabi.  "I  tell  you,  Rod,  we  haven't  hit  the 
right  spot — yet!" 

"I  wonder  why  John  Ball's  share  was  twice 
that  of  his  companions'?  Do  you  suppose  it 
was  because  he  discovered  the  gold  in  the  first 
place?"  speculated  Rod. 

"In  all  probability  it  was.  That  accounts 
for  his  murder.  The  Frenchmen  were  getting 
the  small  end  of  the  deal." 

"Eighteen  hundred  fifty-nine,"  mused  Rod. 
"That  was  forty-nine  years  ago,  before  the 
great  Civil  War.  Say — " 


THE  TREASURE  IN  THE  POOL  259 

He  stopped  and  looked  hard  at  Wabigoon. 

"Did  it  ever  strike  you  that  John  Ball  might 
not  have  been  murdered?" 

Wabi  leaned  forward  with  more  than  usual 
eagerness. 

"I  have  had  a  thought — "  he  began. 

"What?" 

"That  perhaps  he  was  not  killed." 

"And  that  after  the  two  Frenchmen  died  in 
the  knife  duel  he  returned  and  got  the  gold," 
continued  Rod. 

"No,  I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  said  Wabi. 
Suddenly  he  rose  to  his  feet  and  joined  Mu- 
koki  out  in  the  gloom  of  the  chasm. 

Rod  was  puzzled.  Something  in  his  com 
panion's  voice,  in  his  face  and  words,  dis 
turbed  him.  What  had  Wabigoon  meant? 

The  young  Indian  soon  rejoined  him,  but 
he  spoke  no  more  of  John  Ball. 
i  When  the  two  boys  went  to  their  blankets 
Mukoki  still  remained  awake.  For  a  long 
time  he  sat  beside  the  fire,  his  hands  gripping 
the  rifle  across  his  knees,  his  head  slightly 
bowed  in  that  statue-like  posture  so  character- 


2~6o  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

istic  of  the  Indian.  For  fully  an  hour  he  sat 
motionless,  and  in  his  own  way  he  was  deeply 
absorbed  in  thought.  Soon  after  their  discov 
ery  of  the  first  golden  bullet  Wabigoon  had 
whispered  a  few  words  into  his  ear,  unknown 
to  Rod ;  and  to-night  out  in  the  gloom  of  the 
chasm,  he  had  repeated  those  same  words. 
They  had  set  Mukoki's  mind  working.  He 
was  thinking  now  of  something  that  hap 
pened  long  ago,  when,  in  his  reasoning,  the 
wilderness  was  young  and  he  was  a  youth.  In 
those  days  his  one  great  treasure  was  a  dog, 
and  one  winter  he  went  with  this  faithful 
companion  far  into  the  hunting  regions  of 
the  North,  a  long  moon's  travel  from  his  vil 
lage.  When  he  returned,  months  later,  he  was 
alone.  From  his  lonely  hunting  shack  deep 
in  the  solitudes  his  comrade  had  disappeared, 
and  had  never  returned.  This  all  happened 
before  Mukoki  met  the  pretty  Indian  girl 
who  became  his  wife,  and  was  afterward 
killed  by  the  wolves,  and  he  missed  the  dog 
as  he  would  have  missed  a  human  brother. 
The  Indian's  love,  even  for  brutes,  is  some- 


THE   TREASURE   IN   THE   PCOU    *6i 

thing  that  lives,  and  more  than  twenty  moont 
later — two  years  in  the  life  of  a  man — he  re 
turned  once  again  to  the  old  shack,  and  there 
he  found  Wholdaia,  the  dog!  The  animal 
knew  him,  and  bounded  about  on  three  legs 
for  joy,  and  because  of  the  missing  leg  Mu- 
koki  understood  why  he  had  not  returned  to 
him  two  years  before.  Two  ysars  is  a  long 
time  in  the  life  of  a  dog,  and  the  gray  hairs 
of  suffering  and  age  were  freely  sprinkled 
in  Wholdaia's  muzzle  and  *|ong  his  spine. 

Mukoki  was  not  thinking  of  Wholdaia 
without  a  reason.  He  was  thinking  of  Wabi- 
goon's  words — and  the  mad  hunter.  Could 
not  the  mad  hunter  do  as  Wholdaia  had  done? 
Was  it  possible  that  ths  bad-dog  man  who 
shot  golden  bullets  and  who  screamed  like  a 
lynx  was  the  man  wluv  had  lived  there  many, 
many  years  ago,  and  whom  the  boys  called 
John  Ball?  Those  were  the  thoughts  that 
Wabi  had  set  working  in  his  brain.  The 
young  Indian  had  not  suggested  this  to  Rod. 
He  had  spoken  of  it  to  Mukoki  only  because 
he  knew  the  old  pathfinder  might  help  hin? 


262  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

to  solve  the  riddle,  and  so  he  had  started  Mu- 
koki  upon  the  trail. 

The  next  morning,  while  the  others  were 
finishing  their  breakfast,  Mukoki  equipped 
himself  for  a  journey. 

"Go  down  chasm,"  he  explained  to  Rod. 
"Fin'  where  get  out  to  plain.  Shoot  meat." 

That  day  the  gold  hunters  were  more  sys 
tematic  in  their  work,  beginning  close  to  the 
fall,  one  on  each  side  of  the  stream,  and  pan 
ning  their  way  slowly  down  the  chasm.  By 
noon  they  had  covered  two  hundred  yards, 
and  their  only  reward  was  a  tiny  bit  of  gold, 
worth  no  more  than  a  dollar,  which  Rod  had 
found  in  his  pan.  By  the  time  darkness  again 
compelled  them  to  stop  they  had  prospected 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  down  stream  without  dis 
covering  other  signs  of  John  Ball's  treasure. 
In  spite  of  their  failure  they  were  less  dis 
couraged  than  the  previous  evening,  for  this 
failure,  in  a  way,  was  having  a  sedative  and 
healthful  effect.  It  convinced  them  that  there 
was  a  hard  and  perhaps  long  task  ahead  of 
them,  and  that  they  could  not  expect  to  find 


THE  TREASURE  IN  THE  POOL  263 

their  treasure  winnowed  in  yellow  piles  for 
them. 

Early  in  the  evening  Mukoki  returned 
laden  with  caribou  meat,  and  with  the  news 
that  the  first  break  in  the  chasm  Avails  was 
fully  five  miles  below.  The  adven-  urers  now 
regretted  that  they  had  chopped  down  the 
stub,  for  it  was  decided  that  the  next  work 
should  be  in  the  stream  above  the  fall,  which 
would  necessitate  a  ten-mile  tramjj,  five  miles 
to  the  break  and  five  miles  back.  When  the 
journey  was  begun  at  dawn  the  following 
morning  several  days'  supplies  were  taken 
along,  and  also  a  stout  rope  by  means  of  which 
the  gold  hunters  could  lower  themselves  back 
into  their  old  camp  when  their  work  above 
was  completed.  Rod  noticed  that  the  rocks  in 
the  stream  seemed  much  larger  than  when  he 
had  first  seen  them,  and  he  mentioned  the  fact 
to  Wabigoon. 

"The  floods  are  going  down  rapidly,"  exs 
plained  the  young  Indian.  "All  of  the  snow 
is  melted  from  the  sides  of  the  mountains,  and 
there  are  no  lakes  to  feed  this  chasm  stream. 


264  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

Within  a  week  there  won't  be  more  than  a  few 
inches  of  water  below  the  fall." 

"And  that  is  when  we  shall  find  the  gold!" 
declared  Rod  with  his  old  enthusiasm.  "I 
tell  you,  we  haven't  gone  deep  enough!  This 
gold  has  been  here  for  centuries  and  centur 
ies,  and  it  has  probably  settled  several  feet 
below  the  surface  of  the  river-bed.  Ball  and 
the  Frenchmen  found  twenty-seven  pounds 
in  June,  when  the  creek  was  practically  dry. 
Did  you  ever  read  about  the  discoveries  of 
gold  in  Alaska  and  the  Yukon?" 

"A  little,  when  I  was  going  to  school  with 
you." 

"Well,  the  richest  finds  were  nearly  always 
from  three  to  a  dozen  feet  under  the  surface, 
and  when  a  prospector  found  signs  in  surface 
panning  he  foiew  there  was  rich  dirt  below. 
We'll  find  ear  gold  in  this  chasm,  and  near  the 
fall!" 

Rod's  ;vnfidence  was  the  chief  thing  that 
kept  up  'che  spirits  of  the  treasure  seekers 
during  the  next  few  days,  for  not  the  first  sign 
of  gold  was  discovered  above  the  fall.  Yard 


THE  TREASURE  IN  THE  POOL  265 

by  yard  the  prospectors  worked  up  the  chasm 
until  they  had  washed  its  sands  for  more  than 
a  mile.  And  with  the  passing  of  each  day,  as 
Wabigoon  had  predicted,  the  stream  became 
more  and  more  shallow,  until  they  could  wade 
across  it  without  wetting  themselves  above 
their  knees.  At  the  close  of  the  fourth  day 
the  three  lowered  themselves  over  the  face  of 
the  rock  into  the  second  chasm.  So  convinced 
was  Rod  in  his  belief  that  the  gold  was  hidden 
deep  down  under  the  creek  bed  that  he  dug  a 
four-foot  hole  by  torch-light  and  that  night 
after  supper  washed  out  several  pans  of  dirt 
in  the  glow  of  the  camp-fire.  He  still  found 
no  signs  of  gold. 

The  next  day's  exertions  left  no  room  for 
doubt.  Beyond  two  or  three  tiny  flecks  of 
gold  the  three  adventurers  found  nothing  ofi 
value  in  the  deeper  sand  and  gravel  of  the 
stream.  That  night  absolute  dejection  settled 
on  the  camp.  Both  Rod  and  Wabigoon  made 
vain  efforts  to  liven  up  their  drooping  spirits. 
Only  Mukoki,  to  whom  gold  carried  but  a 
fleeting  and  elusive  value,  was  himself,  and 


266  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

even  his  hopefulness  was  dampened  by  the 
gloom  of  his  companions.  Rod  could  see  but 
one  explanation  of  their  failure.  Somewhere 
near  the  cataract  John  Ball  and  the  French 
men  had  found  a  rich  pocket  of  gold,  and  they 
had  worked  it  out,  probably  before  the  fatal 
tragedy  in  the  old  cabin. 

"But  how  about  the  mad  hunter  and  his 
golden  bullets?"  insisted  Wabi,  in  another 
effort  to  brighten  their  prospects.  "The  bul 
lets  weighed  an  ounce  each,  and  I'll  stake  my 
life  they  came  from  this  chasm.  He  knows 
where  the  gold  is,  if  we  don't!" 

"Come  back  soon!"  grunted  Mukoki. 
"Watch  heem.  Fin'gol'l" 

"That's  what  we'll  do!"  cried  the  young 
Indian,  jumping  suddenly  to  his  feet  and  top 
pling  Rod  backward  off  the  rock  upon  which 
he  was  sitting.  "Come,  cheer  up,  Rod !  The 
gold  is  here,  somewhere,  and  we're  going  to 
find  it!  I'm  heartily  ashamed  of  you;  you, 
whom  I  thought  would  never  get  discour* 
aged!" 

Rod  was  laughing  when  he  recovered  from 


THE  TREASURE  IN  THE  POOL  267 

the  playf'Ji  mauling  which  Wabi  adminis 
tered  before  he  could  regain  his  feet. 

"That's  right,  I   deserve  another  licking! 
We've  got  all  the  spring  and  summer  before 
us,  and  if  we  don't  find  the  gold  by  the  time1 
snow  flies  we'll  come  back  and  try  it  again' 
next  year!    What  do  you  say?" 

"And  bring  Minnetaki  with  us!"  added 
Wabi,  jumping  into  the  air  and  kicking  his 
heels  together.  "How  will  you  like  that, 
Rod?"  He  nudged  his  comrade  in  the  ribs, 
and  in  another  moment  both  were  puffing  and 
laughing  in  one  of  their  good-natured  wrest 
ling  bouts,  in  which  the  cat-like  agility  of  the 
young  Indian  always  won  for  him  in  the  end- 
In  spite  of  momentary  times  like  this,  when 
the  natural  buoyancy  and  enthusiasm  of  the 
young  adventurers  rose  above  their  discour 
agement,  the  week  that  followed  added  to 
their  general  depression.  For  miles  the  chasm 
was  explored  and  at  the  end  of  the  week  they 
had  found  less  than  an  ounce  of  gold.  If 
their  pans  had  given  them  no  returns  at  all 
their  disappointment  would  have  been  less, 


268  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

for  then,  as  Wabi  said,  they  could  have  given 
up  the  ghost  with  good  grace.  But  the  few 
precious  yellow  grains  which  they  found  now 
and  then  lured  them  on,  as  these  same  grains 
have  lured  other  hundreds  and  thousands  since 
the  dawn  of  civilization.  Day  after  day  they 
persisted  in  their  efforts;  night  after  night 
about  their  camp-fire  they  inspired  each  other 
with  new  hope  and  made  new  plans.  The 
spring  sun  grew  stronger,  the  poplar  buds 
burst  into  tiny  leaf  and  out  beyond  the  walls  of 
the  chasm  the  first  promises  of  summer  came 
in  the  sweetly  scented  winds  of  the  south,  re 
dolent  with  the  breath  of  balsam  and  pine  and 
the  thousand  growing  things  of  the  plains. 

But  at  last  the  search  came  to  an  end.  For 
three  days  not  even  a  grain  of  gold  had  been 
found.  Around  the  big  rock,  where  they 
ivere  eating  dinner,  Rod  and  his  friends  came 
to  a  final  conclusion.  The  following  morning 
they  would  break  camp,  and  leaving  their 
canoe  behind,  for  the  creek  was  now  too  shal 
low  for  even  birch-bark  navigation,  they 
would  continue  their  exploration  of  the.  chasm 


THE  TREASURE  IN  THE  POOL  269 

in  search  of  other  adventures.  The  whole 
summer  was  ahead  of  them,  and  though  they 
had  failed  in  discovering  a  treasure  where 
John  Ball  and  the  Frenchmen  had  succeeded, 
they  might  find  one  farther  on.  At  least  th< 
trip  deeper  into  the  unexplored  wilderness 
would  be  filled  with  excitement. 

Mukoki  rose  to  his  feet,  leaving  Rod  and 
Wabi  still  discussing  their  plans.  Suddenly 
he  turned  toward  them,  and  a  startled  cry  fell 
from  his  lips,  while  with  one  long  arm  he 
pointed  beyond  the  fall  into  the  upper  chasm. 

"Listen — heem — heem !" 

The  old  warrior's  face  twitched  with  excite 
ment,  and  for  a  full  half  minute  he  stood  mo 
tionless,  his  arm  still  extended,  his  black  eyes 
staring  steadily  at  Rod  and  Wabigoon  who  sat 
as  silent  as  the  rocks  about  them.  Then  there 
came  to  them  from  a  great  distance  a  quaver 
ing,  thrilling  sound,  a  sound  that  filled  them 
again  with  the  old  horror  of  the  upper  chasm 
— the  cry  of  the  mad  hunter. 

At  that  distant  cry  Wabigoon  sprang  to  his 
feet,  his  eyes  leaping  fire,  his  bronzed  cheeks 


270  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

whitening  in  an  excitement  even  greater  than 
that  of  Mukoki. 

"Muky,  I  told  you!"  he  cried.  "I  told 
you!"  The  young  Indian's  body  quivered, 
his  hands  were  clenched,  and  when  he  turned 
upon  Rod  the  white  youth  was  startled  by  the 
look  in  his  face. 

"Rod,  John  Ball  is  coming  back  to  his 
gold!" 

Hardly  had  he  spoken  the  words  when  the 
tenseness  left  his  body  and  his  hands  dropped 
to  his  side. 

The  words  shot  from  him  before  he  could 
control  himself  enough  to  hold  them  back.  In 
another  moment  he  was  sorry.  The  thought 
that  John  Ball  and  the  mad  hunter  were  the 
same  person  he  had  kept  to  himself,  until  for 
reasons  of  his  own  he  had  let  Mukoki  into 
lis  secret.  While  the  idea  had  taken  larger 
*md  larger  growth  in  his  mind  he  knew  that 
•from  every  logical  point  of  view  the  thing 
was  impossible,  and  that  constraint  which 
came  of  the  Indian  blood  in  him  held  him 
from  discussing  it  with  Rod.  But  now  the 


THE   TREASURE    IN   THE    POOL:    271 

words  were  out.  A  quick  flush  replaced  the 
whiteness  that  had  come  into  his  face.  In 
another  instant  he  was  leaning  eagerly  toward 
Rod,  his  eyes  kindling  into  fire  again.  He 
had  not  expected  the  change  that  he  now  saw 
come  over  the  white  youth. 

"I  have  been  thinking  that  for  a  long  time," 
he  continued.  "Ever  since  we  found  the  foot 
prints  in  the  sand.  There's  just  one  proof  that 
we  need,  just  one,  and — " 

"Listen!" 

Rod  fairly  hissed  the  word  as  he  held  up 
a  warning  hand. 

This  time  the  *ry  of  the  mad  hunter  came 
to  them  more  distinctly.  He  was  approach 
ing  through  the  upper  chasm! 

The  white  youth  rose  to  his  feet,  his  eyes 
steadily  fixed  upon  Wabigoon's.  His  face  was 
deathly  pale. 

"John  Ball!"  he  repeated,  as  if  he  had  just 
heard  what  the  other  had  said.  "John  Ball!" 
What  seemed  to  him  to  be  the  only  truth 
swept  upon  him  like  a  flood,  and  for  a  score  of 
seconds,  in  every  one  of  which  he  could  hear 


272  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

his  heart  thumping  excitedly,  he  stood  like 
one  stunned.  John  Ball!  John  Ball  returned 
to  life  to  find  their  gold  for  them,  to  tell  them 
of  the  tragedy  and  mystery  of  those  days  long 
dead  and  gone!  Like  powder  touched  by  a 
spark  of  fire  his  imagination  leaped  at  Wabi's 
thrilling  suggestion. 

Mukoki  set  to  work. 

"Hide!"  he  exclaimed.  "Hide  thees — 
thees — thees!"  He  pointed  about  him  at  all 
the  things  in  camp. 

Both  of  the  boys  understood. 

"He  must  see  no  signs  of  our  presence  from 
the  top  of  the  fall!"  cried  Wabi,  gathering 
an  armful  of  camp  utensils.  "Hide  them 
back  among  the  cedars!" 

Mukoki  hurried  to  the  cedar  bough  shelter 
and  began  tearing  it  down.  For  five  minutes 
the  adventurers  worked  on  the  run.  Once 
during  that  time  they  heard  the  madman's 
wailing  cry,  and  hardly  had  they  finished  and 
concealed  themselves  in  the  gloom  of  the  old 
cabin  when  it  came  again,  this  time  from  not 
more  than  a  rifle-shot's  distance  beyond  the 


THE   TREASURE    IN   THE    POOL    273 

cataract.  It  was  not  a  scream  that  now  fell 
from  the  mad  hunter's  lips,  but  a  low  wail, 
and  in  it  there  was  something  that  drove  the 
old  horror  from  the  three  wildly  beating 
hearts  and  filled  them  with  a  measureless, 
nameless  pity.  What  change  had  come  over 
the  madman?  The  cry  was  repeated  every 
few  seconds  now,  each  time  nearer  than  be 
fore,  and  in  it  there  was  a  questioning,  ap 
pealing  note  that  seemed  to  end  in  sobbing 
despair,  a  something  that  gripped  at  Rod's 
heart  and  filled  him  with  a  great  half-mas 
tering  impulse  to  answer  it,  to  run  out  and 
stretch  his  hands  forth  in  greeting  to  the 
strange,  wild  creature  coming  down  the 
chasm! 

Then,  as  he  looked,  something  ran  out 
upon  the  edge  of  the  great  rock  beside  the 
cataract,  and  he  clutched  at  his  own  breast  to 
hold  back  what  he  thought  must  burst  forth 
in  wrords.  For  he  knew — as  surely  as  he  knew 
that  Wabi  was  at  his  side — that  he  was  look 
ing  upon  John  Ball!  For  a  moment  the 
strange  creature  crouched  where  the  stub  had 


274  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

been,  and  when  he  saw  that  it  was  gone  he 
stood  erect,  and  a  quavering,  pitiful  cry 
echoed  softly  through  the  chasm.  And  as  he 
stood  there  motionless  the  watchers  saw  that 
the  mad  hunter  was  an  old  man,  tall  and  thin, 
but  as  straight  as  a  sapling,  and  that  his  head 
and  breast  were  hidden  in  shaggy  beard  and 
hair.  In  his  hands  he  carried  a  gun — the  gun 
that  had  fired  the  golden  bullets — and  even 
at  that  distance  those  who  were  peering  from 
the  gloom  of  the  cabin  saw  that  it  was  a  long 
barreled  weapon  similar  to  those  they  had 
found  in  the  other  old  cabin,  along  with  the 
skeletons  of  the  Frenchmen  who  had  died  in 
the  fatal  knife  duel. 

In  breathless  suspense  the  three  waited,  not 
a  muscle  of  their  bodies  moving.  Again  the 
old  man  leaned  over  the  edge  of  the  rock,  and 
his  voice  came  to  them  in  a  moaning,  sobbing 
appeal,  and  after  a  little  he  stretched  out  his 
arms,  still  crying  softly,  as  if  beseeching  help 
from  some  one  below.  The  spectacle  gripped 
at  Rod's  soul.  A  hot  film  came  into  his  eyes 
and  there  was  an  odd  little  tremble  in  his 


THE  TREASURE  IN  THE  POOL  275 

throat.  The  Indians  were  looking  with  dark, 
staring  eyes.  To  them  this  was  another  unusual 
incident  of  the  wilderness.  But  to  Rod  it  was 
the  white  man's  soul  crying  out  to  his  own. 
The  old  man's  outstretched  arms  seemed 
reaching  to  him,  the  sobbing  voice,  filled  with 
its  pathos,  its  despair,  its  hopeless  loneliness, 
seemed  a  supplication  for  him  to  come  forth, 
to  reach  up  his  own  arms,  to  respond  to  this 
lost  soul  of  the  solitudes.  With  a  little  cry  Rod 
darted  between  his  companions.  He  threw  off 
his  cap  and  lifted  his  white  face  to  the  startled 
creature  on  the  rock,  and  as  he  advanced  step 
by  step,  reaching  out  his  hands  in  friendship, 
he  called  softly  a  name: 

"John  Ball,  John  Ball,  John  Ball!" 

In  an  instant  the  mad  hunter  had  straight 
ened  himself,  half  turned  to  flee. 

"John  Ball!  Hello,  John  Ball— John 
Ball—" 

In  his  earnestness  Rod  was  almost  sobbing 
the  name.  He  forgot  everything  now,  every 
thing  but  that  lonely  figure  on  the  rock,  and 
he  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  gently  calling  the 


27b  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

name,  until  the  mad  hunter  dropped  on  his 
knees  and,  crumpled  in  his  long  beard  and 
gray  lynx  skin,  looked  down  upon  Rod  and 
sent  back  a  low  moaning,  answering  cry. 

"John  Ball!    John  Ball,  is  that  you?" 

Rod  stopped,  with  the  madman  forty  feet 
above  him,  and  something  seemed  choking 
back  the  very  breath  in  him  when  he  saw  the 
strange  look  that  had  come  into  the  old  man's 
eyes. 

"John  Ball—" 

The  wild  eyes  above  shifted  for  a  moment. 
They  caught  a  glimpse  of  two  heads  thrust 
from  the  door  of  the  old  cabin,  and  the  mad 
man  sprang  to  his  feet.  For  a  breath  he  stood 
on  the  edge  of  the  rock,  then  with  a  cry  he 
leaped  with  the  fierce  agility  of  an  animal 
far  out  into  the  swirl  of  the  cataract!  For  an 
instant  he  was  visible  in  the  downward  plunge 
of  the  water.  Another  instant  and  with  a 
heavy  splash  he  disappeared  in  the  deep  pool 
under  the  fall ! 

Wabi  and  Mukoki  had  seen  the  desperate 
leap  and  the  young  Indian  was  beside  the  pool 


THE  TREASURE  IN  THE  POOL  277 

before  Rod  had  recovered  from  his  horrified 
astonishment.  For  centuries  the  water  of  the 
chasm  stream  had  been  tumbling  into  this  pool 
wearing  it  deeper  and  deeper  each  year,  until 
the  water  in  it  was  over  a  man's  head.  In 
width  it  was  not  more  than  a  dozen  feet. 

"Watch  for  him!  He'll  drown  if  we  don't 
get  him  out,"  shouted  Wabi. 

Rod  leaped  to  the  edge  of  the  pool,  with 
Mukoki  between  him  and  Wabigoon.  Ready 
to  spring  into  the  cold  depths  at  the  first  sign 
of  the  old  man's  gray  head  or  struggling  arms 
the  three  stood  with  every  muscle  ready  for 
action.  A  second,  two  seconds,  five  seconds 
passed,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  him.  Rod's 
heart  began  to  beat  with  drum-like  fierceness. 
Ten  seconds!  A  quarter  of  a  minute!  He 
looked  at  Wabigoon.  The  young  Indian  had 
thrown  off  his  caribou-skin  coat;  his  eyes,  as 
he  turned  them  for  a  moment  toward  Rod, 
flashed  back  the  white  youth's  fear. 

"I'm  going  to  dive  for  him!" 

In  another  instant  he  had  plunged  head 
foremost  into  the  pool.  Mukoki's  coat  fell 


278  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

to  the  ground.  He  crouched  forward  until 
it  seemed  he  must  topple  from  the  stone  upon 
which  he  stood.  Another  fifteen  seconds  and 
Wabigoon's  head  appeared  above  the  water, 
and  the  old  warrior  gave  a  shout. 

"Me  come!" 

'He  shot  out  and  disappeared  in  a  huge 
splash  close  to  Wabi.  Rod  stood  transfixed, 
filled  with  a  fear  that  was  growing  in  him  at 
every  breath  he  drew.  He  saw  the  convul 
sions  of  the  water  made  by  the  two  Indians, 
who  were  groping  about  below  the  surface. 
Wabigoon  came  up  again  for  breath,  then 
Mukoki.  It  seemed  to  him  that  an  age  had 
passed,  and  he  felt  no  hope.  John  Ball  was 
dead! 

Not  for  a  moment  now  did  he  doubt  the 
identity  of  the  mad  hunter.  The  strange,  wist 
ful  light  that  had  replaced  the  glare  in  the 
old  man's  eyes  when  he  heard  his  own  name 
called  to  him  had  spoken  more  than  words. 
It  was  John  Ball!  And  he  was  dead!  For 
a  third  time,  a  fourth,  and  a  fifth  Mukoki 
and  Wabigoon  came  up  for  air,  and  the  fifth 


THE  TREASURE  IN  THE  POOL  279 

time  they  dragged  themselves  out  upon  the 
rocks  that  edged  the  pool.  Mukoki  spoke 
no  word  but  ran  back  to  the  camp  and  threw 
a  great  armful  of  dry  fuel  upon  the  fire. 
.Wabigoon  still  remained  at  the  edge  of  the 
pool,  dripping  and  shivering.  His  hands 
were  clenched,  and  Rod  could  see  that  they 
were  filled  with  sand  and  gravel.  Mechan 
ically  the  Indian  opened  his  fingers  and 
looked  at  what  he  had  unconsciously  brought 
up  from  under  the  fall. 

For  a  moment  he  stared,  then  with  his  gasp 
ing  breath  there  came  a  low,  thrilling  cry. 

He  held  out  his  hands  to  Rod. 

Gleaming  richly  among  the  pebbles  which 
he  held  was  a  nugget  of  pure  gold,  a  nugget 
so  large  that  Rod  gave  a  wild  yell,  and  in  that 
one  moment  forgot  that  John  Ball,  the  mad 
hunter,  was  dead  or  dying  beneath  the  fall! 


CHAPTER  XVI 

JOHN  BALL  AND  THE  MYSTERY  OF  THE  GOL1> 

MUKOKI,  hearing  Rod's  cry,  hurried 
to  the  pool,  but  before  he  reached 
the  spot  where  the  white  youth  was 
standing  with  the  yellow  nugget  in  his  hand 
Wabigoon  had  again  plunged  beneath  the 
surface.  For  several  minutes  he  remained  in 
the  water,  and  when  he  once  more  crawled 
out  upon  the  rocks  there  was  something  so 
strange  in  his  face  and  eyes  that  for  a  moment 
Rod  believed  he  had  found  the  dead  body  of 
the  madman. 

"He  isn't — in — the — pool!"  he  panted. 
Mukoki  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  shiv 
ered. 

"Dead!"  he  grunted 
"He  isn't  in  the  pool!" 
Wabigoon's  black  eyes  gleamed  in  uncanny 
emphasis  of  his  words. 

280 


283 

"He  isn't  in  the  pool!" 

The  others  understood  what  he  meant. 
Mukoki's  eyes  wandered  to  where  the  water 
of  the  pool  gushed  between  the  rocks  into  the 
broader  channel  of  the  chasm  stream.  It  was 
not  more  than  knee  deep! 

"He  no  go  out  there!" 

"Nor 

"Then— where?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders  suggestively 
again,  and  pointed  into  the  pool. 

"Body  slip  under  rock.    He  there!" 

"Try  it!"  said  Wabigoon  tersely. 

He  hurried  to  the  fire,  and  Rod  went  with 
him  to  gather  more  fuel  while  the  young  In 
dian  warmed  his  chilled  body.  They  heard 
the  old  pathfinder  leap  into  the  water  under 
the  fall  as  they  ran. 

Ten  minutes  later  Mukoki  joined  them. 

"Gone!    Bad-dog  man  no  there!" 

He  stretched  out  one  of  his  dripping  arms 

"GoP  bullet!"  he  grunted. 

In  the  palm  of  his  hand  lay  another  yellow 
nugget,  as  large  as  a  hazelnut! 


282  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

"I  told  you,"  said  Wabi  softly,  "that  John 
Ball  was  coming  back  to  his  gold.  And  he  has 
done  so !  The  treasure  is  in  the  pool  I" 

But  where  was  John  Ball? 

Dead  or  alive,  where  could  he  have  disap 
peared? 

Under  other  conditions  the  chasm  would 
have  rung  with  the  wild  rejoicing  of  the  gold 
Seekers.  But  there  was  something  now  that 
stilled  the  enthusiasm  in  them.  At  last  the  an 
cient  map  had  given  up  its  secret,  and  riches 
were  within  their  grasp.  But  no  one  of  the 
three  shouted  out  his  triumph.  Somehow  it 
seemed  that  John  Ball  had  died  for  them,  and 
the  thought  clutched  at  their  hearts  that  if  they 
had  not  cut  down  the  stub  he  would  still  be 
•alive.  Indirectly  they  had  brought  about  the 
death  of  the  poor  creature  who  for  nearly 
half  a  century  had  lived  alone  with  the  beasts 
in  these  solitudes.  And  that  one  glimpse  of 
the  old  man  on  the  rock,  the  prayerful  en 
treaty  in  his  wailing  voice,  the  despair  which 
he  sobbed  forth  when  he  found  his  tree  gone, 
had  livened  in  them  something  that  was  more 


JOHN    BALL   AND   THE   GOLD     283 

than  sympathy.  At  this  moment  the  three 
adventurers  would  willingly  have  given  up  all 
hopes  of  gold  could  sacrifice  have  brought 
back  that  sad,  lonely  old  man  who  had 
looked  down  upon  them  from  the  wall  of  the 
upper  chasm. 

"I  am  sorry  we  cut  down  the  stub,"  said 
Rod. 

They  were  the  first  words  spoken. 

"So  am  I,"  replied  Wabi  simply,  begin 
ning  to  strip  off  his  wet  clothes.  "But — " 
He  stopped,  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"What?" 

"Well,  we're  taking  it  for  granted  that  John 
Ball  is  dead.  If  he  is  dead  why  isn't  he  in  the 
pool?  By  George,  I  should  think  that  Mu- 
koki's  old  superstition  would  be  getting  the 
best  of  him!" 

"I  believe  he  is  in  the  pool !"  declared  Rod. 

Wabi  turned  upon  him  and  repeated  the 
words  he  had  spoken  to  the  old  warrior  half 
an  hour  before. 

"Try  it!" 

After  the  attempts  of  the  two  Indians,  who 


284  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

could  dive  like  otter,  Rod  had  no  inclination 
to  follow  Wabi's  invitation.  Mukoki,  who 
had  hung  up  a  half  of  his  clothes  near  the 
fire,  was  fitting  one  of  the  pans  to  the  end  of 
a  long  pole  which  he  had  cut  from  a  sapling, 
and  it  was  obvious  that  his  intention  was  to 
begin  at  once  the  dredging  of  the  pool  for 
gold.  Rod  joined  him,  and  once  more  the  ex 
citement  of  treasure  hunting  stirred  in  his 
veins.  When  the  pan  was  on  securely  Wabi 
left  the  fire  to  join  his  companions,  and  the 
three  returned  to  the  pool.  With  a  long  sweep 
of  his  improvised  dredge  Mukoki  scooped  up 
two  quarts  or  more  of  sand  and  gravel  and 
emptied  it  upon  one  of  the  flat  rocks,  and  the 
two  boys  pounced  upon  it  eagerly,  raking  it 
out  with  their  fingers  and  wiping  the  mud  and 
sand  from  every  suspicious  looking  pebble. 

"The  quickest  way  is  to  wash  it!"  said  Rod, 
as  Mukoki  dumped  another  load  upon  the 
rock.  "I'll  get  some  water!" 

He  ran  to  the  camp  for  the  remaining  pans 
and  when  he  turned  back  he  saw  Wabi  leap 
ing  in  a  grotesque  dance  about  the  rock  while 


JOHN   BALL   AND   THE   GOLD     285 

Mukoki  stood  on  the  edge  of  the  pool,  his 
dredge  poised  over  it,  silent  and  grinning. 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  cried  the 
young  Indian  as  Rod  hurried  to  him.  "What 
do  you  think  of  that?" 

He  held  out  his  hand,  and  in  it  there 
gleamed  a  third  yellow  nugget,  fully  twice 
as  large  as  the  one  discovered  by  Mukoki! 

Rod  fairly  gasped.  "The  pool  must  be  full 
of 'em!" 

He  half-filled  his  pan  with  the  sand  and 
gravel  and  ran  knee-deep  out  into  the  running 
stream.  In  his  eagerness  he  splashed  over  a 
part  of  his  material  with  the  wash,  but  he 
excused  himself  by  thinking  that  this  was  his 
first  pan,  and  that  with  the  rest  he  would  be 
more  careful.  He  began  to  notice  now  that 
all  of  the  sand  was  not  washing  out,  and  when 
he  saw  that  it  persisted  in  lying  heavy  and 
thick  among  the  pebbles  his  heart  leaped  into 
his  mouth.  One  more  dip,  and  he  held  his 
pan  to  the  light  coming  through  the  rift  in  the 
chasm.  A  thousand  tiny,  glittering  particles 
met  his  eyes!  In  the  center  of  the  pan  there 


286  THE    GOLD   HUNTERS 

gleamed  dully  a  nugget  of  pure  gold  as  big 
as  a  pea!  At  last  they  had  struck  it  rich,  so 
rich  that  he  trembled  as  he  stared  down  into 
the  pan,  and  the  cry  that  had  welled  up  in  his 
throat  was  choked  back  by  the  swift,  excited 
beating  of  his  heart.  In  that  moment's  glance 
down  into  his  treasure-laden  pan  he  saw  all  of 
his  hopes  and  all  of  his  ambitions  achieved. 
He  was  rich!  In  those  gleaming  particles  he 
saw  freedom  for  his  mother  and  himself.  No 
longer  a  bitter  struggle  for  existence  in  the 
city,  no  more  pinching  and  striving  and  sac 
rifice  that  they  might  keep  the  little  home  in 
which  his  father  had  died!  When  he  turned 
toward  Wabigoon  his  face  was  filled  with  the 
ecstasy  of  those  visions.  He  waded  ashore  and 
held  his  pan  under  the  other's  eyes. 

"Another  nugget!"  exclaimed  Wabi  excit 
edly. 

"Yes.  But  it  isn't  the  nugget.  It's  the — w 
He  moved  the  pan  until  the  thousand  little 
particles  glittered  and  swam  before  the  In 
dian's  eyes.  "It's  the  dust.  The  sand  is  full 
of  gold!" 


JOHN    BALL   AND    THE   GOLD      287 

His  voice  trembled,  his  face  was  white. 
From  his  crouching  posture  Wabi  looked  up 
at  him,  and  they  spoke  no  more  words. 

Mukoki  looked,  and  was  silent.  Then  he 
went  back  to  his  dredging.  Little  by  little 
Rod  washed  down  his  pan.  Half  an  hour 
later  he  showed  it  again  to  Wabigoon.  The 
pebbles  were  gone.  What  sand  was  left  was 
heavy  with  the  gleaming  particles,  and  half 
buried  in  it  all  was  the  yellow  nugget!  In 
Wabi's  pan  there  was  no  nugget  but  it  was  rich 
with  the  gleam  of  fine  gold. 

Mukoki  had  dredged  a  bushel  of  sand  and 
gravel  from  the  pool,  and  was  upon  his  knees 
beside  the  heap  which  he  had  piled  on  the 
rock.  When  Rod  went  to  that  rock  for  his 
third  pan  of  dirt  the  old  warrior  made  no  sign 
that  he  had  discovered  anything.  The  early 
gloom  of  afternoon  was  beginning  to  settle 
between  the  chasm  walls,  and  at  the  end  of  his 
fourth  pan  Rod  found  that  it  was  becoming  so 
dark  that  he  could  no  longer  distinguish  the 
yellow  particles  in  the  sand.  With  the  ex 
ception  of  one  nugget  he  had  found  only  fine 


288  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

gold.     With  Wabi's  dust  were  three  small 
nuggets. 

When  they  ceased  work  Mukoki  rose  from 
beside  the  rock,  chuckling,  grimacing,  and 
holding  out  his  hand.  Wabi  was  the  first  to 
see,  and  his  cry  of  astonishment  drew  Rod 
quickly  to  his  side.  The  hollow  of  the  old 
warrior's  hand  was  filled  with  nuggets!  He 
turned  them  into  Wabigoon's  hand,  and  the 
young  Indian  turned  them  into  Rod's,  and  as 
he  felt  the  weight  of  the  treasure  he  held 
Rod  could  no  longer  restrain  the  yell  of  exul 
tation  that  had  been  held  in  all  that  afternoon 
Jumping  high  into  the  air  and  whooping:  at 
every  other  step  he  raced  to  the  camp  and  «oon 
had  the  small  scale  which  they  had  bniught 
with  them  from  Wabinosh  House.  The  nug 
gets  they  had  found  that  afternoon  weighed 
full  seven  ounces,  and  the  fine  gold,  after 
allowing  the  deduction  of  a  third  for  sand, 
weighed  a  little  more  than  eleven  ounces. 
"Eighteen  ounces — and  a  quarter!" 
Rod  gave  the  total  in  a  \oi\\v  tremulous 
with  incredulity. 


JOHN    BALI.   AND   THE   GOLD     289 

"Eighteen  ounces — at  twenty  dollars  an 
ounce — three  hundred  and  sixty  dollars!"  he 
figured  rapidly.  "By  George — "  The  pros 
pect  seemed  too  big  for  him,  and  he  stopped. 

:\ 

"Less  than  half  a  day's  work,"  added  Wabi. 
"We're  doing  better  than  John  Ball  and  the 
Frenchmen.  It  means  eighteen  thousand  dol 
lars  a  month!" 

"And  by  autumn — "  began  Rod. 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  inimitable 
chuckling  laugh  of  Mukoki  and  found  the  old 
warrior's  face  a  map  of  creases  and  grimaces. 

"In  twent'  t'ous'nd  moon — mak'  heem  how 
much?"  he  questioned. 

In  all  his  life  Wabigoon  had  never  heard 
Mukoki  joke  before,  and  with  a  wild  whoop 
of  joy  he  rolled  the  stoical  old  pathfinder  off 
the  rock  on  which  he  was  sitting,  and  Rod 
joined  heartily  in  Wabi's  merriment. 

And  Mukoki's  question  proved  not  to  be  so 
much  of  a  joke  after  all,  as  the  boys  were  soon 
to  learn.  For  several  days  the  work  went  on 
uninterrupted.  The  buckskin  bags  in  the  bal 
sam  shelter  grew  heavier  and  heavier.  Each 


290  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

succeeding  hour  added  to  the  visions  of  the 
gold  seekers.  On  the  fifth  day  Rod  found 
seventeen  nuggets  among  his  fine  gold,  one  of 
them  as  large  as  the  end  of  his  thumb.  On 
the  seventh  came  the  richest  of  all  their  pan 
ning,  but  on  the  ninth  a  startling  thing  hap-; 
pened.  Mukoki  was  compelled  to  work  cease 
lessly  to  keep  the  two  boys  supplied  with  "pay 
dirt"  from  the  pool.  His  improvised  dredge 
now  brought  up  only  a  handful  or  two  of  sand 
and  pebbles  at  a  dip.  It  was  on  this  ninth 
day  that  the  truth  dawned  upon  them  all. 

The  pool  was  becoming  exhausted  of  its 
treasure! 

But  the  discovery  brought  no  great  gloom 
with  it.  Somewhere  near  that  pool  must  be  the 
very  source  of  the  treasure  itself,  and  the  gold 
hunters  were  confident  of  finding  it.  Besides, 
they  had  already  accumulated  what  to  them 
was  a  considerable  fortune,  at  least  two  thou 
sand  dollars  apiece.  For  three  more  days  the 
work  continued,  and  then  Mukoki's  dredge  no 
longer  brought  up  pebbles  or  sand  from  the 
bottom  of  the  pool. 


JOHN   BALL   AND   THE   GOLD     291 

The  last  pan  was  washed  early  in  the  morn 
ing,  and  as  the  warm  weather  had  begun  to 
taint  the  caribou  meat  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon 
left  immediately  after  dinner  to  secure  fresh 
meat  out  on  the  plains,  while  Rod  remained 
in  camp.  The  strange  thick  gloom  of  night 
which  began  to  gather  in  the  chasm  before  the 
sun  had  disappeared  beyond  the  plains  above 
was  already  descending  upon  him  when  Rod 
began  preparations  for  supper.  He  knew 
that  the  Indians  would  not  wait  until  dark 
before  reentering  the  break  between  the 
mountains,  and  confident  that  they  would  soon 
appear  he  began  mixing  up  flour  and  water 
for  their  usual  batch  of  hot-stone  biscuits.  So 
intent  was  he  upon  his  task  that  he  did  not  see 
a  shadowy  form  creeping  up  foot  by  foot 
from  the  rocks.  He  caught  no  glimpse  of  the 
eyes  that  glared  like  smoldering  coals  from 
out  of  the  half  darkness  between  him  and  the 
fall. 

His  first  knowledge  of  another  presence 
came  in  a  low,  whining  cry,  a  cry  that  was  not 
much  more  than  a  whisper,  and  he  leaped  fco 


292  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

his  feet,  every  nerve  in  his  body  once  mere 
tingling  with  that  excitement  which  had  pos 
sessed  him  when  he  stood  under  the  rock  talk 
ing  to  the  madman.    A  dozen  yards  away  he 
saw  a  face,  a  great,  white,  ghost-like  face,  star 
ing  at  him  from  out  of  the  thickening  shad 
ows,  and  under  that  face  and  its  tangled  veil 
of  beard  and  hair  he  saw  the  crouching  form 
of  the  mad  hunter! 

In  that  moment  Roderick  Drew  thanked 
God  that  he  was  not  afraid.  Standing  full  in 
the  glow  of  the  fire  he  stretched  out  his  arms, 
as  he  had  once  before  reached  them  out  to  this 
weird  creature,  and  again,  softly,  pleadingly, 
he  called  the  name  of  John  Ball !  There  came 
in  reply  a  faint,  almost  unheard  sound  from 
the  wild  man,  a  sound  that  was  repeated  again 
and  again,  and  which  sent  a  thrill  into  the 
young  hunter,  for  it  was  wondrously  like  the 
name  he  was  calling:  "  John  Ball!  John  Ball1' 
John  Ball!"  And  as  the  mad  hunter  repeated 
that  sound  he  advanced,  foot  by  foot,  as 
though  creeping  upon  all  fours,  and  Rod  saw 
then  that  one  of  his  arms  was  stretched  out 


JOHN    BALL   AND   THE   GOLD      293 

to  him,  and  that  in  the  extended  hand  was  a 
fish. 

He  advanced  a  step,  reaching  out  his  own 
hands  eagerly,  and  the  wild  creature  stopped, 
cringing  as  if  fearing  a  blow. 

"John  Ball!  John  Ball!"  he  repeated.  He 
thought  of  no  other  words  but  those,  and  ad 
vanced  bit  by  bit  as  he  called  them  gently 
again  and  again.  Now  he  was  within  ten  feet 
of  the  old  man,  now  eight,  presently  he  was 
so  near  that  he  might  have  reached  him  in  a 
single  leap.  Then  he  stopped. 

The  mad  hunter  laid  down  his  fish.  Slowly 
he  retreated,  murmuring  incoherent  sounds  in 
his  beard,  then  sprang  to  his  feet  and  with  a 
wailing  cry  sped  back  toward  the  pool. 
Swiftly  Rod  followed.  He  saw  the  form  leap 
from  the  rocks  at  its  edge,  heard  a  heavy 
splash,  and  all  was  still! 

For  many  minutes  Rod  stood  with  the  spray 
of  the  cataract  dashing  in  his  face.  This  time 
the  madman's  plunge  into  the  cold  depths  at 
his  feet  filled  him  with  none  of  the  horror  of 
that  first  insane  leap  from  the  rock  above. 


294  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

Somewhere  in  that  pool  the  old  man  was  seek 
ing  refuge!  What  did  it  mean?  His  eyes 
scanned  the  thin  sheet  of  water  that  plunged 
down  from  the  upper  chasm.  It  was  a  dozen 
feet  in  width  and  hid  the  black  wall  of  rock 
behind  it  like  a  thick  veil.  What  was  there 
just  behind  that  falling  torrent?  Was  it  pos 
sible  that  in  the  wall  of  rock  behind  the  water 
fall  there  was  a  place  where  John  Ball  found 
concealment? 

Rod  returned  to  camp,  convinced  that  he 
had  at  last  guessed  a  solution  to  the  mystery. 
John  Ball  was  behind  the  cataract!  The 
strange  murmurings  of  the  old  man  who  for 
a  few  moments  had  crouched  so  close  to  him 
still  rang  in  his  ears,  and  he  was  sure  that  in 
these  half-articulate  sounds  had  been  John 
Ball's  own  name.  If  there  had  been  a  doubt 
in  his  mind  before,  it  was  wiped  away  now. 
The  mad  hunter  was  John  Ball,  and  with  that 
thought  burning  in  his  brain  Rod  stopped  be 
side  the  fish — the  madman's  offering  of  peace 
• — and  turned  his  face  once  more  back  toward 
the  black  loneliness  of  the  pool. 


JOHN    BALL   AND   THE   GOLD     295 

Unconsciously  a  sobbing  cry  of  sympathy 
fell  softly  from  Rod's  lips,  and  he  called 
John  Ball's  name  again,  louder  and  louder, 
until  it  echoed  far  down  the  gloomy  depths  of 
the  chasm.  There  came  no  response.  Then  he 
turned  to  the  fish.  John  Ball  wished  them  to 
be  friends,  and  he  had  brought  this  offering  I 
In  the  firelight  Rod  saw  that  it  was  a  curious 
looking,  dark-colored  fish,  covered  with  small 
scales  that  were  almost  black.  It  was  the  size 
of  a  large  trout,  and  yet  it  was  not  a  trout.  The 
head  was  thick  and  heavy,  like  a  sucker's,  and 
yet  it  was  not  a  sucker.  He  looked  at  this  head 
more  closely,  and  gave  a  sudden  start  when  he 
saw  that  it  had  no  eyes! 

In  one  great  flood  the  truth  swept  upon  him, 
the  truth  of  what  lay  behind  the  cataract,  of 
where  John  Ball  had  gone!  For  he  held  in  his 
hands  an  eyeless  creature  of  another  world,  a 
world  hidden  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  itself, 
a  proof  that  beyond  the  fall  was  a  great  cavern 
filled  with  the  mystery  and  the  sightless  things 
of  eternal  night,  and  that  in  this  cavern  John 
Ball  found  his  food  and  made  his  home! 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN  A  SUBTERRANEAN  WOR1D 

WHEN  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon  re 
turned  half  an  hour  later  the  hot- 
stone  biscuits  were  still  unbaked. 
The  fire  was  only  a  bed  of  coals.  Beside  it  sat 
Rod,  the  strange  fish  upon  the  ground  at  his 
feet.    Before  Mukoki  had  thrown  down  the 
pack  of  meat  which  he  was  carrying  he  was 
showing  them  this  fish.    Quickly  he  related 
what  had  happened.  He  added  to  this  some  of 
the  things  which  he  had  thought  while  sitting 
by  the  fire.  The  chief  of  these  things  were  that 
just  behind  the  cataract  was  the  entrance  to  a 
great  cavern,  and  that  in  this  cavern  they 
would  not  only  find  John  Ball,  but  also  the 
rich  storehouse  of  that  treasure  of  which  they 
had  discovered  a  part  in  the  pool. 
And  as  the  night  lengthened  there  was  little 
296 


IN    A    SUBTERRANEAN    WORLD      297 

talk  about  the  gold  and  much  about  John  Ball. 
Again  and  again  Rod  described  the  madman's 
visit,  the  trembling,  pleading  voice,  the  offer 
ing  of  the  fish,  the  eager  glow  that  had  come 
into  the  wild  eyes  when  he  talked  to  him  and 

called  him  by  name.    Even  Mukoki's  stoic 

i 

heart  was  struck  by  the  deep  pathos  of  it  all. 
The  mad  hunter  no  longer  carried  his  gun, 
He  no  longer  sought  their  lives.  In  his  crazed 
brain  something  new  and  wonderful  was  at 
work,  something  that  drew  him  to  them,  with 
the  half-fear  of  an  animal,  and  yet  with  grow 
ing  trust.  He  was  pleading  for  their  compan 
ionship,  their  friendship,  and  deep  down  in  his 
heart  Rod  felt  that  the  spark  of  sanity  was  not 
completely  gone  from  John  Ball. 

When  the  three  adventurers  retired  to  their 
blankets  in  the  cedar  shelter  it  was  not  the 
thought  of  gold  that  quickened  their  blood  in 
anticipation  of  the  morning.  The  passing  of 
an  age  would  not  dull  the  luster  of  what  they 
had  come  to  seek.  It  would  wait  for  them. 
The  greatest  of  all  things — the  sympathy  of 
man  for  man — had  stilled  that  other  passion  in 


298  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

them.  John  Ball's  salvation,  and  not  more 
gold,  was  the  day's  work  ahead  of  them  now. 

With  the  dawn  they  were  up,  and  by  the 
time  it  was  light  enough  to  see  they  were  ready 
for  the  exploration  of  whatever  was  hidden  be 
hind  the  fall.  In  a  rubber  blanket  Wabigoon 
wrapped  a  rifle  and  half  a  dozen  pine  torches. 
Mukoki  carried  a  quantity  of  cooked  meat. 
Standing  on  the  edge  of  the  pool  Rod  pointed 
into  the  falling  torrent. 

"He  dived  straight  under,"  he  said.  "The 
opening  to  the  cavern  is  directly  behind  the 
shoot  of  falling  water." 

Wabi  placed  his  hat  and  coat  upon  a  rock. 

"I'll  try  it  first.  Wait  until  I  come  back," 
he  said. 

Without  another  word  he  plunged  into  the 
pool.  Minute  after  minute  passed,  and  he  did 
not  reappear.  Rod  was  conscious  of  a  nervous 
chill  creeping  into  his  blood.  But  Mukoki  was 
chuckling  confidently. 

"Found  heem!"  he  replied  in  response  to  the 
white  youth's  inquiring  look. 

As  he  spoke  Wabigoon  came  up  out  of  the 


IN   A    SUBTERRANEAN    WORLD      ^99 

pool  like  a  great  fish.  Rod  helped  him  upon 
the  rocks. 

"We're  two  bright  ones,  we  are,  Muky!"  he 
exclaimed,  as  soon  as  he  gained  his  breath. 
"Just  behind  the  fall  I  ran  up  against  the  wal? 
of  rock  we  found  when  we  were  hunting  for 
John  Ball,  stood  on  my  feet,  and — '  he 
swung  his  arms  suggestively — "there  I  was, 
head  and  shoulders  out  of  water,  looking  into 
a  hole  as  big  as  a  house!" 

"Dive  easy!"  warned  the  old  pathfinder, 
turning  to  Rod.  "Bump  head  on  rock — 
swush !" 

"We  won't  have  to  dive,"  continued  Wabi. 
"The  wafer  directly  under  the  fall  of  the 
stream  isn't  more  than  four  feet  deep.  If  we 
wade  into  it  from  over  there  we  can  make  it 
easy." 

Taking  his  waterproof  bundle  the  young  In 
dian  slipped  into  the  pool  close  up  against  the 
wall  of  rock  that  formed  the  foundation  of  the 
upper  chasm  and  plunged  straight  into  the 
tumbling  cataract.  Mukoki  followed  close  be- 
hindj  and  preparing  himself  with  a  long 


300  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

breath  Rod  hurried  into  this  new  experience. 
For  a  moment  he  was  conscious  of  a  smother 
ing  weight  upon  him  and  a  thunderous  roar 
ing  in  his  ears,  and  he  was  borne  irresistibly 
down.  There  was  still  air  in  his  lungs  when  he 
found  himself  safely  through  the  deluge  so  he 
knew  that  its  passage  had  taken  him  only  a 
brief  but  thrilling  instant.  For  a  time  he  could 
see  nothing.  Then  he  made  out  a  dark  form 
drawing  itself  up  out  of  the  water.  Beyond 
that  there  lay  a  chaos  of  midnight  blackness, 
and  he  knew  that  his  eyes  were  staring  into  the 
depths  of  a  great  cavern ! 

Gripping  the  edge  of  the  rock  ledge  he 
dragged  himself  up  as  both  Wabigoon  and 
Mukoki  had  done,  and  found  his  feet  upon  a 
soft  floor  of  sand.  Suddenly  he  felt  a  hand 
clutch  his  arm.  A  half-shout,  rising  faintly 
above  the  wash  of  the  cataract,  sounded  in  h'p 
ear. 

"Look!" 

He  wiped  the  water  from  his  eyes  and  gazed 
ahead  of  him.  For  a  moment  he  saw  nothing, 
Then,  so  faintly  that  at  first  it  appeared  no 


IN   A    SUBTERRANEAN    WORLD      301 

larger  than  a  star,,  he  caught  the  faint  glimmer 
of  a  light.  As  he  looked  it  became  more  and 
more  distinct,  and  to  his  astonishment  he  saw 
that  it  was  slowly  rising,  like  a  huge  will-o'- 
the-wisp  that  had  suddenly  risen  from  the 
floor  of  the  cavern  to  float  off  into  the  utter 
blackness  of  space  above.  And  even  as  he 
stared,  gripping  Wabi's  arm  in  his  excitement, 
the  strange  light  began  to  descend,  and  quickly 
disappeared! 

The  two  boys  saw  Mukoki  slip  off  into  the 
gloom,  and  without  questioning  his  motive 
they  followed  close  behind.  As  they  pro 
gressed  the  sound  of  the  fall  came  more  and 
more  faintly  to  their  ears.  A  blackness  deeper 
than  the  gloom  of  the  darkest  night  environed 
them,  and  the  three  now  held  to  one  another's 
arms.  Rod  understood  why  his  companions 
lighted  no  torches.  Somewhere  ahead  of  them 
was  another  light,  carried  by  the  mad  hunter. 
His  blood  thrilled  with  excitement.  Where 
would  John  Ball  lead  them? 

Suddenly  he  became  conscious  that  they 
were  no  longer  walking  on  a  level  floor  of  sand 


302  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

but  that  they  were  ascending,  as  the  light  had 
done.  Mukoki  stopped  and  for  a  full  minute 
they  stood  and  listened.  The  tumult  of  the  fall 
came  to  them  in  a  far,  subdued  murmur.  Be 
yond  that  there  was  not  the  breath  of  a  sound 
in  the  strange  world  of  gloom  about  them. 
They  were  about  to  start  on  again  when  some 
thing  held  them,  a  whispering,  sobbing  echo, 
and  Rod's  heart  seemed  to  stop  its  beating.  It 
died  away  slowly,  and  a  weird  stillness  fell 
after  it.  Then  came  a  low  moaning  cry,  a  cry 
that  was  human  in  its  agony,  and  yet  which 
had  in  it  something  so  near  the  savage  that 
even  Wabigoon  found  himself  trembling  as  he 
strained  in  futile  effort  to  pierce  the  impene 
trable  gloom  ahead.  Before  the  cry  had  lost 
itself  in  the  distances  of  the  cavern  Mukoki 
was  leading  them  on  again. 

Step  by  step  they  followed  in  the  path  taken 
by  the  strange  light.  Rod  knew  that  they  were 
climbing  a  hill  of  sand,  and  that  just  beyond 
it  they  would  see  the  light  again,  but  he  was 
not  prepared  for  the  startling  suddenness  with 
5vhich  the  next  change  came.  As  if  a  black 


*N   A    SUBTERRANEAN    WORLD      303 

curtain  had  dropped  from  before  their  eyes 
the  three  adventurers  beheld  a  scene  that 
halted  them  in  their  tracks.  A  hundred  paces 
away  a  huge  pitch-pine  torch  a  yard  in  length 
was  burning  in  the  sand,  and  crouching  in  the 
red  glow  of  this,  his  arms  stretched  out  as  if  in 
the  supplication  of  a  strange  prayer,  was  John 
Ball!  Just  beyond  him  was  the  gleam  of 
water,  inky-black  in  the  weird  flickerings  of 
the  torch,  and  toward  this  John  Ball  reached 
out  in  his  grief.  His  voice  came  up  softly  to 
the  three  watchers  now,  so  low  that  even  in  the 
vast  silence  of  the  cavern  it  could  barely  be 
heard.  To  Roderick  Drew  it  was  as  if  the 
strange  creature  below  him  was  sobbing  like  a 
heart-broken  child,  and  he  whispered  in 
Wabigoon's  ear.  Then,  foot  by  foot,  so  gently 
that  his  moccasined  feet  made  no  sound,  he 
approached  the  madman. 

Half-way  to  him  he  paused. 

"Hello,  John  Ball !"  he  called  softly. 

The  faint  light  of  the  torch  was  falling  upon 
him,  and  he  advanced  another  step.  The  mur 
muring  of  the  wild  man  ceased,  but  he  made 


304  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

no  movement.  He  still  knelt  in  his  rigid  pos 
ture,  his  arms  stretched  toward  the  black  chaos 
beyond  him.  Rod  came  very  close  to  him  be 
fore  he  spoke  again. 

"Is  that  you,  John  Ball?" 

Slowly  the  kneeling  figure  turned,  and  once 
more  Rod  saw  in  those  wild  eyes,  gleaming 
brightly  now  in  the  torch-light,  the  softer, 
thrilling  glow  of  recognition  and  returning 
reason.  He  reached  out  his  own  arms  and  ad 
vanced  boldly,  calling  John  Ball's  name,  and 
the  madman  made  no  retreat  but  crouched 
lower  in  the  sand,  strange,  soft  sounds  again 
falling  from  his  lips.  Rod  had  come  within 
half  a  dozen  feet  of  him  when  he  sprang  up 
with  the  quickness  of  a  cat,  and  with  a  wailing 
cry  plunged  waist  deep  into  the  water.  With 
his  arms  stretched  entreatingly  into  the  mys 
terious  world  beyond  the  torch-light  he  turned 
his  face  to  the  white  youth,  and  Rod  knew 
that  he  was  trying  as  best  he  could  to  tell  him 
something. 

"What  is  it,  John  Ball?" 

He  went  to  the  edge  of  the  black  water  an3 


IN   A    SUBTERRANEAN    WORLD      305 

waded  out  until  it  rose  to  his  knees,  his  eyes 
staring  into  the  blackness. 

"What  is  it?" 

He,  too,  pointed  with  one  arm,  and  the  mad- 
'irnan  gave  an  excited  gesture.  Then  he  placed 
'his  hands  funnel-shaped  to  his  mouth,  as  Rod 
had  often  seen  Wabi  and  Mukoki  do  when 
calling  moose,  and  there  burst  from  him  a  far- 
reaching  cry,  and  Rod's  heart  gave  a  sudden 
bound  as  he  listened,  for  the  cry  was  that  of  a 


woman's  name 


"Dol — o — res-s-s-s — Dol — o — res-s-s-s — " 

The  cry  died  away  in  distant  murmuring 
echoes,  and  with  an  answering  cry  Rod 
shouted  forth  the  name  which  he  fancied  John 
Ball  had  spoken. 

"Dolores!  Dolores!  Dolores!" 

There  came  a  sudden  leaping  plunge,  and 
John  Ball  was  at  his  feet,  clasping  him  about 
the  knees,  and  sobbing  again  and  again  that 
name — Dolores.  Rod  put  his  arms  about  the 
old  man's  shoulders,  and  the  gray,  shaggy 
head  fell  against  him.  The  sobbing  voice 
grew  lower,  the  weight  of  the  head  greater, 


306  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

and  after  a  little  Rod  called  loudly  for  Mu- 
koki  and  Wabigoon,  for  there  was  no  longer 
movement  or  sound  from  the  form  at  his 
feet,  and  he  knew  that  something  had  hap 
pened  to  John  Ball.  The  two  Indians  were 
quickly  at  his  side,  and  together  they  carried 
the  unconscious  form  of  Ball  within  the  circle 
of  torch-light.  The  old  man's  eyes  were  closed, 
his  claw-like  fingers  were  clenched  fiercely 
upon  his  breast,  and  not  until  Mukoki  placed 
a  hand  over  his  heart  did  the  three  know  that 
he  was  still  breathing. 

"Now  is  our  time  to  get  him  to  camp,"  said 
Wabi.  "Lead  the  way  with  the  torch,  Rod !" 

There  was  not  much  weight  to  John  Ball, 
and  the  two  Indians  carried  him  easily.  At 
the  fall  the  rubber  blanket  was  wound  about 
his  head  and  the  adventurers  plunged  under 
the  cataract  with  their  burden.  It  was  an  hour 
after  that  before  the  old  man  opened  his  eyes 
again.  Rod  was  close  beside  him  and  for  a  full 
minute  the  mad  hunter  gazed  up  into  his  face, 
then  once  more  he  sank  off  into  that  strange 
unconsciousness  which  had  overcome  him  in 


IN   A    SUBTERRANEAN    WORLD      30? 

the  cavern.  Rod  rose  white-faced  and  turned 
to  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon. 

"I'm  afraid — he's  dying,"  he  said. 

The  Indians  made  no  answer.  For  several 
minutes  the  three  sat  silently  about  John  Ball 
watching  for  signs  of  returning  consciousness, 
At  last  Mukoki  roused  himself  to  take  a  pot  of 
soup  from  the  fire.  The  movement  seemed  to 
stir  John  Ball  into  life,  and  Rod  was  at  his 
side  again,  holding  a  cup  of  water  to  his  lips. 
After  a  little  he  helped  the  old  man  to  sit  up, 
and  a  spoonful  at  a  time  the  warm  soup  was 
fed  to  him. 

Through  the  whole  of  that  day  he  re 
turned  to  consciousness  only  for  brief  inter 
vals,  lapsing  back  into  a  death-like  sleep  after 
each  awakening.  During  one  of  these  periods 
of  unconsciousness  Wabi  cut  short  the  taagled 
beard  and  hair,  and  for  the  first  time  they  saw 
in  all  its  emaciation  the  thin,  ghastly  face  of 
the  man  who,  half  a  century  before,  had  drawn 
the  map  that  led  them  to  the  gold.  There  wai 
little  change  in  his  condition  during  the  night 
that  followed,  except  that  now  and  tl>en  he 


3o8  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

muttered  incoherently,  and  at  these  times  Rod 
always  caught  in  his  ravings  the  name  that  he 
had  heard  in  the  cavern.  The  next  day  there 
was  no  change.  And  there  was  still  none  on 
the  third.  Even  Mukoki,  who  had  tried  every 
expedient  of  wilderness  craft  in  nursing,  gave 
up  in  despair.  So  far  as  they  could  see  John 
Ball  had  no  fever.  Yet  three-quarters  of  the 
time  he  lay  as  if  dead.  Nothing  but  soup  could 
be  forced  between  his  lips. 

On  the  second  day  Wabi  revisited  the  sub 
terranean  world  beyond  the  cataract.  When 
he  came  back  he  had  discovered  the  secret  of 
the  treasure  in  the  pool.  The  gold  came  from 
the  cavern.  The  soft  sand  through  which  they 
had  followed  the  strange  light  was  rich  in  dust 
and  nuggets.  During  the  floods  of  spring 
water  came  into  the  cavern  from  somewhere, 

and  flowing  for  a  brief  space  out  through  the 

i 

mouth  of  the  cave  brought  with  it  the  preciousi 
burden  of  treasure-laden  sand  which  was 
dumped  into  the  pool.  The  constant  wash  of 
the  cataract  had  caused  most  of  the  sand  to 
overflow  into  the  running  stream,  but  the 


IN   A    SUBTERRANEAN   WORLD      309 

heavier  gold-dust  and  nuggets  remained  in  the 
trap  into  which  they  had  fallen. 

But  the  joy  that  came  of  this  discovery  was 
subdued  by  thoughts  of  John  Ball.  The  gold 
meant  everything  to  Rod,  the  realization  of  his 
hopes  and  ambitions;  and  he  knew  that  it 
meant  everything  to  his  mother,  and  to  all 
those  who  belonged  to  Mukoki  and  Wabi- 
goon.  But  the  gold  could  wait.  They  had  al 
ready  accumulated  a  small  fortune,  and  they 
could  return  for  the  rest  a  little  later.  At  pres 
ent  they  must  do  something  for  John  Ball,  the 
man  to  whom  they  were  indebted  for  all  that 
they  had  found,  and  to  whom  the  treasure 
really  belonged.  On  the  third  day  Rod  laid 
his  plans  before  Wabi  and  Mukoki. 

"We  must  take  John  Ball  back  to  the  Post 
as  quickly  as  we  can,"  he  said.  "It  is  our  only 
chance  of  saving  him.  If  we  start  now,  while 
:he  water  in  the  creek  is  deep  enough  to  float 
our  canoe,  we  can  make  Wabinosh  House  in 
ten  or  fifteen  days." 

"It  will  be  impossible  to  paddle  against  the 
swift  current,"  said  Wabi. 


3io  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

"That  is  true.  But  we  can  put  John  Ball 
into  the  canoe  and  tow  him  up-stream.  It  will 
be  a  long  wade  and  hard  work,  but — " 

He  looked  at  Wabi  in  silence,  then  added, 

"Do  we  want  John  Ball  to  live,  or  do  we 
want  him  to  die?" 

"If  I  thought  he  would  live  I  would  wade 
a  thousand  miles  to  save  him,"  rejoined  the 
young  Indian.  "It  means  little  to  us  but  work. 
We  know  where  the  rest  of  the  gold  is  and  can 
return  to  it  within  a  few  weeks." 

If  there  had  been  a  doubt  in  the  boys'  minds 
as  to  the  right  course  to  pursue  John  Ball  set 
tled  it  himself  that  very  afternoon.  He  awak 
ened  from  an  unusually  long  stupor.  His  eyes 
were  burning  with  a  new  light,  and  as  Rod 
bent  over  him  he  whispered  softly,  but  dis 
tinctly, 

"Dolores — Dolores — Where  is  Dolores?" 

"Who  is  Dolores,  John  Ball?"  whispered 
the  white  youth,  his  heart  thumping  wildly. 
"Who  is  Dolores?" 

Ball  drew  up  one  of  his  emaciated  hands 
and  clasped  it  to  his  head,  and  a  sobbing  moan 


IN   A    SUBTERRANEAN    WORLD      311 

fell  from  his  lips.  Then,  after  a  moment,  he 
repeated,  as  though  to  himself, 

"Dolores — Dolores — Who  is  Dolores?" 

The  Indians  had  come  near,  and  heard.  But 
John  Ball  said  no  more.  He  swallowed  a  few 
'spoonfuls  of  soup  and  fell  again  into  his  death 
like  trance. 

"Who  is  Dolores?"  repeated  Wabigoon,  hig 
face  whitening  as  he  looked  at  Rod.  "Is  there 
somebody  else  in  the  cavern?" 

"He  is  talking  of  some  one  whom  he  prob 
ably  knew  forty  or  fifty  years  ago,"  replied 
Rod.  But  his  own  face  was  white  He  stared 
hard  at  Wabigoon,  and  a  strange  look  came 
into  Mukoki's  face. 

"Dolores,"  he  mused,  without  taking  his 
eyes  from  Wabi.  "It's  a  woman's  name,  or  a 
girl's  name.  We  must  save  John  Ball!  We 
must  start  for  Wabinosh  House — now!" 

"While  he's  unconscious  we  can  tie  the  rope 
about  him  and  hoist  him  into  the  upper 
chasm,"  quickly  added  Wabigoon.  "Muky, 
get  to  work.  We  move  this  minute!" 

It  was  still  two  hours  before  dusk,  and  now 


312  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

that  they  had  determined  on  returning  to 
Wabinosh  House  the  adventurers  lost  no  time 
in  getting  under  way.  Wabi  climbed  the  rope 
that  was  suspended  from  the  upper  chasm,  and 
that  part  of  their  equipment  which  it  was  nec 
essary  to  take  back  with  them  was  hoisted  up 
by  him.  Mukoki  sheltered  the  rest  in  the  old 
cabin.  John  Ball  was  drawn  up  last.  For  an 
hour  after  that,  until  the  gray  shadows  of  night 
began  settling  about  them,  the  three  waded  up 
the  shallow  stream,  pulling  the  canoe  and  its 
unconscious  burden  after  them.  That  night 
the  madman  was  not  left  unwatched  for  a  min 
ute.  Mukoki  sat  beside  him  until  eleven 
o'clock.  Then  Wabi  took  his  turn.  A  little 
after  midnight  Rod  was  aroused  by  being  vio 
lently  pulled  from  his  bed  of  balsam  boughs. 

"For  the  love  of  Heaven,  get  up!"  whis 
pered  the  young  Indian.  "He's  talking,  Rod! 
He's  talking  about  Dolores,  and  about  some 
kind  of  a  great  beast  that's  bigger  than  any 
thing  that  ever  lived  up  here !  Listen  I" 

The  madman  was  moaning  softly. 

"I've  killed  it,  Dolores— I've  killed  it--» 


IN   A   SUBTERRANEAN   WORLD     313 

killed  it!  Where  is  Dolores?  Where — is — " 
There  came  a  deep  sigh,  and  John  Ball  was 
quiet. 

"Killed  what?"  panted  Rod,  his  heart 
thumping  until  it  choked  him. 

"The  beast — whatever  it  was,"  whispered 
Wabi.  "Rod,  something  terrible  happened  in 
that  cavern!  We  don't  know  the  whole  story. 
The  Frenchmen  who  killed  themselves  for 
possession  of  the  birch-bark  map  played  only  a 
small  part  in  it.  The  greater  part  was  played 
by  John  Ball  and  Dolores!" 

For  a  long  time  the  two  listened,  but  the  old 
man  made  no  sound  or  movement. 

"Better  go  back  to  bed,"  said  Wabi.  "I 
thought  if  he  was  going  to  keep  it  up  you 
would  like  to  hear.  I'll  call  you  at  two." 

But  Rod  could  not  sleep.  For  a  long  time 
he  lay  awake  thinking  of  John  Ball  and  his 
strange  ravings.  Who  was  Dolores?  What] 
terrible  tragedy  had  that  black  world  under 
the  mountains  some  time  beheld?  Despite  his 
better  reason  an  indefinable  sensation  of  un 
easiness  possessed  him  as  the  madman'.?  sob- 


314  THE    GOLD   HUNTERS 

bing  out  of  the  woman's  name  recurred  to  bin.. 
He  spoke  nothing  of  this  to  Wabi  when  he  re 
lieved  himr  and  he  said  nothing  of  it  during 
the  days  that  followed.  They  were  days  of  un- 
.ending  toil,  of  fierce  effort  to  beat  out  death  in 
the  race  to  Wabinosh  House. 

For  it  seemed  that  the  end  of  time  was  very 
near  for  John  Ball.  On  the  fourth  day  his  thin 
cheeks  showed  signs  of  fever,  and  on  the  fifth 
he  was  tossing  in  delirium.  The  race  now  con 
tinued  by  night  as  well  as  by  day,  only  an  hour 
or  two  of  rest  being  snatched  at  a  time.  Dur 
ing  these  days  John  Ball  babbled  ceaselessly  of 
Dolores,  and  great  beasts,  and  the  endless  cav 
ern  ;  and  now  the  beasts  began  taking  the  form 
of  strange  people  whose  eyes  gleamed  from 
out  of  masses  of  fur,  and  who  had  hands,  and 
flung  spears.  On  the  eighth  day  the  madman 
sank  back  into  his  old  lethargy.  On  the  fourth 
day  after  that  the  three  adventurers,  worn  and 
exhausted,  reached  the  shore  of  Lake  Nipi- 
gon.  Thirty  miles  across  the  lake  was  Wabi 
nosh  House,  and  it  was  decided  that  Mukoki 
and  Rod  should  leave  for  assistance,  while 


IN   A   SUBTERRANEAN    WORLD      315 

Wabigoon  remained  with  John  Ball.  The  two 
rolled  themselves  in  their  blankets  immedi 
ately  after  supper,  and  after  three  hours'  sleep 
were  awakened  by  the  young  Indian.  All  that 
night  they  paddled  with  only  occasional  mo 
ments  of  rest.  The  sun  was  just  rising  over  the 
forests  when  they  grounded  their  canoe  close 
to  the  Post.  As  Rod  sprang  ashore  he  saw  a 
figure  walk  slowly  out  from  the  edge  of  the 
forest  an  eighth  of  a  mile  away.  Even  at  that 
distance  he  recognized  Minnetakil  He  looked 
at  the  sharp-eyed  Mukoki.  He,  too,  had  seen 
and  recognized  the  girl. 

"Muky,  I'm  going  along  in  the  edge  of  the 
woods  and  give  her  a  surprise,"  said  Rod  cour 
ageously.  "Will  you  wait  here?" 

Mukoki  grinned  a  nodding  assent,  and  the 
youth  darted  into  the  edge  of  the  forest.  He 
was  breathless  when  he  came  up  a  hundred 
yards  behind  the  girl,  screened  from  view  by 
the  trees.  Softly  he  whistled.  It  was  a  signal 
that  Minnetaki  had  taught  him  on  his  first 
trip  into  the  North,  and  he  knew  of  only  ttvo 
who  used  it  in  all  that  Northland,  and 


316  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

two  were  the  Indian  maiden  and  himself.  The 
girl  turned  as  she  heard  the  trilling  note,  and 
Rod  drew  himself  farther  back.  He  whistled 
again,  more  loudly  than  before,  and  Minne- 
taki  came  hesitatingly  toward  the  forest's  edge, 
and  when  he  whistled  a  third  time  there  came 
a  timid  response  from  her,  as  if  she  recognized 
and  yet  doubted  the  notes  that  floated  to  her 
from  the  shadows  of  the  balsams. 

Again  Rod  whistled,  laughing  as  he  drew 
a  little  farther  back,  and  again  Minnetaki  an 
swered,  peering  in  among  the  trees.  He  saw 
the  wondering,  half-expectant  glow  in  her 
eyes,  and  suddenly  crying  out  her  name  he 
sprang  from  his  concealment.  With  a  little 
cry  of  joy  and  with  hands  outstretched  Minne 
taki  ran  to  meet  him. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

JOHN  BALL'S  STORY 

THAT  same  morning  two  big  canoes  set 
out  across  Lake  Nipigon  for  Wabi- 
goon  and  John  Ball.  Mukoki  returned 
with  the  canoes,  but  Rod  remained  at  the  Post, 
and  not  a  moment's  rest  did  he  have  during  the 
whole  of  that  day  from  the  eager  questions  of 
those  whom  he  had  so  completely  surprised  by 
his  unexpected  return.  Few  stories  could  have 
been  more  thrilling  than  his,  though  he  told  it 
in  the  simplest  manner  possible.  Rod's  appear 
ance  more  than  his  words  was  evidence  of  the 
trials  he  and  his  companions  had  passed 
.through.  His  face  was  emaciated  to  startling 
thinness  by  desperate  exertion  and  lack  of 
sleep,  and  both  his  face  and  his  hands  were 
covered  with  scratches  and  bruises.  Not  until 
late  in  the  afternoon  did  he  go  to  bed,  and  it 


318  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

was  noon  the  following  day  when  he  awoke 
from  his  heavy  slumber. 

The  canoes  had  returned,  and  John  Ball  was 
in  the  doctor's  care.  At  dinner  Rod  and  Wabi 
were  made  to  go  over  their  adventures  again, 
and  even  Mukoki,  who  had  joined  them  in 
this  reunion,  was  not  allowed  to  escape  the 
endless  questioning  of  Minnetaki,  the  factor's 
wife,  and  Rod's  mother.  Rod  was  seated  at  th& 
table  between  Mrs.  Drew  and  Minnetaki, 
Several  times  during  the  conversation  he  felt 
the  young  girl's  hand  touch  his  arm.  Once, 
when  the  factor  spoke  about  their  return  to  the 
gold  in  the  cavern,  this  mysterious  signaling 
of  Minnetaki's  took  the  form  of  a  pinch  that 
made  him  squirm.  Not  until  after  dinner,  and 
the  two  were  alone,  did  he  begin  to  compre 
hend. 

"I'm  ashamed  of  you,  Roderick  Drew!" 
(said  the  girl,  standing  before  him  in  mock  dis 
pleasure.  "You  and  Wabi  were  the  stupidest 
things  I  ever  saw  at  dinner!  Have  you  all  for 
gotten  your  promise  to  me? — your  promise 
that  I  should  go  with  you  on  your  next  trip?  I 


JOHN   BALL'S    STORY  319 

wanted  you  to  speak  about  it  right  there  at 
dinner!" 

"But  I  —  I  —  couldn't!"  stammered  Rod 
awkwardly. 

"But  I'm  going!"  said  Minnetaki  decisively. 
"I'm  going  with  you  boys  on  this  next  trip — 
if  I  have  to  run  away!  It's  not  fair  for  Wabi 
and  Mukoki  and  you  to  leave  me  alone  all  of 
the  time.  And,  besides,  I've  been  making  all 
the  arrangements  while  you  were  gone.  I've 
won  over  mamma  and  your  mother,  and  Ma- 
balla,  mamma's  Indian  woman,  will  go  with 
me.  There's  just  one  who  says — 'No!'  "  And 
Minnetaki  clasped  her  hands  pathetically. 

"And  that's  papa,"  completed  Rod,  laugh 
ing. 

"Yes." 

"Well,  if  he  is  the  only  one  against  us  we 
stand  a  good  chance  of  winning." 

"I'm  going  to  have  mamma  and  Wabigoor, 
get  him  by  themselves  to-night,"  said  the  girl. 
"Papa  will  do  anything  on  earth  for  her,  and 
he  thinks  Wabi  is  the  best  boy  on  earth. 
Mamma  says  she  will  lock  the  door  and  won't 


320  THE    GOLD    HUNTERS 

let  him  out  until  he  has  given  his  promise, 
Oh,  what  a  glorious  time  we'll  have!" 

"Perhaps  he  would  go  with  us,"  suggested 
Rod. 

"No,  he  couldn't  leave  the  Post.  If  he  went 
Wabi  would  have  to  stay." 

Rod  was  counting  on  his  fingers. 

"That  means  six  in  our  next  expedition, — 
Wabi,  Mukoki,  John  Ball  and  myself,  and  yqu 
and  Maballa.  Why,  it'll  be  a  regular  picnic 
party!" 

Minnetaki's  eyes  were  brimming  with  fun. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "that  Maballa 
thinks  Mukoki  is  just  about  the  nicest  Indian 
that  ever  lived?  Oh,  I'd  be  so  glad  if — if — " 

She  puckered  her  mouth  into  a  round,  red 
O,  and  left  Rod  to  guess  the  rest.  It  was  not 
difficult  for  him  to  understand. 

"So  would  I,"  he  cried.  Then  he  added, 

"Muky  is  the  best  fellow  on  earth." 

"And  Maballa  is  just  as  good,"  said  the  girl 
loyally. 

The  boy  held  out  his  hand. 

"Let's  shake  on  that,  Minnetaki !  I'll  handle 


JOHN   BALL'S    STORY  321 

Mukoki,  you  take  care  of  Maballa.  What  a 
picnic  this  next  trip  will  be!" 

"And  there'll  be  lots  and  lots  of  adventures, 
won't  there?"  asked  the  girl  a  little  anx 
iously. 

"Plenty  of  them."  Rod  became  immediately 
serious.  "This  will  be  the  most  important  of 
all  our  trips,  Minnetaki,  that  is,  if  John  Ball 
lives.  I  haven't  told  the  others,  but  I  believe 
that  great  cavern  holds  something  for  us  be 
sides  gold!" 

The  smile  left  the  girl's  face.  Her  eyes  were 
soft  and  eager. 

"You  believe  that — Dolores — " 

"I  don't  know  what  to  believe.  But — we'll 
find  something  there!" 

For  an  hour  Rod  and  Minnetaki  talked  of 
John  Ball  and  of  the  strange  things  he  said  in 
his  delirium.  Then  the  girl  rejoined  Mrs. 
Drew  and  the  princess  mother,  while  Rod 
went  in  search  of  Mukoki  and  Wabigoon. 
That  night  the  big  event  happened.  George 
Newsome,  the  factor,  gave  a  reluctant  consent 
which  meant  that  Wabi's  sister  and  Maballa 


322  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

would  accompany  the  adventurers  on  their 
next  journey  into  the  untraveled  solitudes  of 
Hudson  Bay. 

For  a  week  John  Ball  hovered  between  life 
and  death.  After  that  his  improvement  was 
slow  but  sure,  and  each  day  added  strength  to 
his  emaciated  body  and  a  new  light  to  his  eyes. 
At  the  end  of  the  second  week  there  was  no 
question  but  that  he  was  slowly  returning  to 
sanity.  Gradually  he  came  to  know  those  who 
sat  beside  his  bed,  and  whenever  Rod  visited 
him  he  insisted  on  holding  the  youth's  hand, 
At  first  the  sight  of  Minnetaki  or  her  mother, 
or  of  Mrs.  Drew,  had  a  startling  effect  on  hims 
and  in  their  presence  he  would  moan  cease 
lessly  the  name  Rod  first  heard  in  the  cavern, 
A  little  at  a  time  the  language  of  those  about 
him  came  back  to  the  old  man,  and  bit  by  bit 
those  who  waited  and  listened  and  watched 
learned  the  story  of  John  Ball.  Midsummer 
came  before  he  could  gather  the  scattered 
threads  of  his  life  in  his  memory,  and  even 
then  there  were  breaks  in  this  story  which 
seemed  but  trivial  things  to  John  Ball,  but 


JOHN   BALL'S    STORY  323 

which  to  the  others  meant  the  passing  of  for 
gotten  years. 

In  fact,  years  played  but  a  small  part  in  the 
strange  story  that  fell  from  the  old  man's  lips. 
"In  time,"  said  the  Post  physician,  "he  will 
remember  everything.  Now  only  the  most  im 
portant  happenings  in  his  life  have  returned 
to  him." 

John  Ball  could  not  remember  the  date 
when,  as  a  young  boy,  he  left  York  Factory, 
on  Hudson  Bay,  to  come  a  thousand  miles 
down  to  civilization  in  company  with  the  two 
Frenchmen  who  killed  themselves  in  the  old 
cabin.  But  the  slip  of  paper  which  Rod  had 
discovered  filled  that  gap.  He  was  the  son  of 
the  factor  at  York  Factory,  and  was  to  spend 
a  year  at  school  in  Montreal.  On  their  trip 
down  it  was  the  boy  who  found  gold  in  the 
chasm.  John  Ball  could  remember  none  of  the 
"details.  'He  only  knew  that  they  remained  to 
gather  the  treasure,  and  that  he,  as  its  dis 
coverer  and  the  son  of  one  of  the  lords  of  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company,  was  to  receive  twice 
the  share  of  the  others,  and  that  in  the  autumn 


324  THE   GOLD   HUNTERS 

they  were  to  return  to  York  Factory  instead  of 
going  on  to  Montreal.  Ho  remembered  indis 
tinctly  a  quarrel  over  the  gold,  and  after  that 
of  writing  some  sort  of  agreement,  and  then, 
early  one  morning,  he  awoke  to  find  the  two 
Frenchmen  standing  over  him,  and  after  that, 
for  a  long  time,  everything  seemed  to  pass  as 
in  a  dream. 

When  he  awoke  into  life  he  was  no  longer 
in  the  chasm,  but  among  a  strange  people  who 
were  so  small  that  they  reached  barely  to  his 
shoulders,  and  who  dressed  in  fur,  and  carried 
spears,  and  though  the  sick  man  said  no  more 
about  these  people  those  who  listened  to  him 
knew  that  he  had  wandered  far  north  among 
the  Eskimos.  They  treated  him  kindly,  and 
he  lived  among  them  for  a  long  time,  hunting 
and  fishing  with  them,  and  sleeping  in  houses 
built  of  ice  and  snow. 

The  next  that  John  Ball  remembered  was  of 
white  people.  In  some  way  he  returned  to 
York  Factory,  and  he  knew  that  when  this 
happened  many  years  had  passed,  for  his  fa 
ther  and  mother  were  dead,  and  there  were 


JOHN    BALL'S    STORY  325 

strangers  at  the  Post.  At  this  time  John  Ball 
must  have  returned  fully  to  his  reason  again. 
He  remembered,  faintly,  leading  several  un 
successful  expeditions  in  search  of  the  gold 
which  he  and  the  Frenchmen  had  discovered, 
and  that  once  he  went  to  a  great  city,  which 
must  have  been  Montreal,  and  that  he  stayed 
there  a  long  time  doing  something  for  the 
Hudson  Bay  Company,  and  met  a  girl  whom 
he  married.  When  he  spoke  of  the  girl  John 
Ball's  eyes  would  glow  feverishly  and  her 
name  would  fall  from  him  in  a  moaning  sob. 
For  as  yet  returning  reason  had  not  placed  the 
hand  of  age  upon  him.  It  was  as  if  he  was 
awakening  from  a  deep  sleep,  and  Dolores,  his 
young  wife,  had  been  with  him  but  a  few  hours 
before. 

There  came  another  break  in  John  Ball's 
life  after  this.  He  could  not  remember  how 
long  they  lived  in  Montreal,  but  he  knew  that 
after  a  time  he  returned  with  his  wife  into  the 
far  North,  and  that  they  were  very  happy,  and 
one  summer  set  off  in  a  canoe  to  search  for  the 
lost  chasm  together.  They  found  it.  How  or 


326  THE    GOLD   HUNTERS 

when  he  could  not  remember.  After  this  John 
Ball's  story  was  filled  with  wild  visions  of  a 
great  black  world  where  there  was  neither  sun 
nor  moon  nor  stars,  and  they  found  gold  and 
dug  it  by  the  light  of  fires.  And  one  day  the( 
woman  went  a  little  way  back  in  this  world 
and  never  came  back. 

It  was  then  that  the  old  madness  returned. 
In  his  search  for  his  lost  wife  John  Ball  never 
found  the  end  of  the  great  cavern.  He  saw 
strange  people,  he  fought  great  beasts  in  this 
black  world  that  were  larger  than  the  biggest 
moose  in  the  forests,  and  he  told  of  rushing 
torrents  and  thundering  cataracts  in  the  bowels 
of  the  earth.  Even  in  his  returning  sanity  the 
old  man  told  these  things  as  true. 

George  Newsome,  the  factor,  lost  no  time  in 
writing  to  the  Company  at  Montreal,  inquir 
ing  about  John  Ball,  and  a  month  later  he  re 
ceived  word  that  a  man  by  that  name  had 
worked  as  an  inspector  of  raw  furs  during  the 
years  1877  and  1878.  He  had  left  Montreal 
for  the  North  thirty  years  before.  In  all  prob 
ability  he  soon  after  went  in  search  of  the  lost 


JOHN    BALL'S    STORY  327 

gold,  and  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  cen 
tury  had  lived  as  a  wild  man  in  the  solitudes. 

It  was  at  this  time  in  the  convalescence  of 
the  doctor's  patient  that  Roderick's  mother 
^made  a  suggestion  which  took  the  Post  by 
storm.  It  was  that  the  factor  and  his  family 
accompany  her  and  Rod  back  to  civilization 
for  a  few  weeks'  visit.  To  the  astonishment  of 
all,  and  especially  to  Minnetaki  and  the 
princess  mother,  the  factor  fell  in  heartily  with 
the  scheme,  with  the  stipulation  that  the 
Drews  return  with  them  early  in  the  autumn. 
An  agent  from  the  head  office  of  the  Company 
had  come  up  for  a  month's  fishing  and  he 
cheerfully  expressed  his  willingness  to  take 
charge  of  affairs  at  the  Post  during  their  ab 
sence. 

The  happiness  of  Rod  and  Wabi  was 
complete  when  Mukoki  was  compelled  to  give 
his  promise  to  go  with  them.  For  several  days 
the  old  warrior  withstood  their  combined  as 
saults,  but  at  last  he  surrendered  when  Minne 
taki  put  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  nestled 
her  soft  cheek  against  his  leathery  face,  with 


328  THE   GOLD    HUNTERS 

the  avowal  that  she  would  not  move  a  step 
unless  he  went  with  her. 

So  it  happened,  one  beautiful  summer 
morning,  that  three  big  canoes  put  out  into  the 
lake  from  Wabinosh  House  and  headed  into 
the  South,  and  only  Mukoki,  of  all  the  seven 
who  were  going  down  into  civilization,  felt 
something  that  was  not  joy  as  the  forests 
slipped  behind  them.  For  Mukoki  was  to  get 
a  glimpse  of  a  new  world,  a  world  far  from 
the  land  of  his  fathers,  and  the  loyal  heart  in 
side  his  caribou-skin  coat  quickened  its  pulse 
a  little  as  he  thought  of  the  wonderful  journey. 

Thus  began  the  journey  to  civilization. 


THE  END 


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